THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES ' 


"  Gowl-bye,  mother;  <u.w  don't  you  fret  about  me  at  all.' 


AGAINST  FATE. 


A  TRUE  STORYt 


BY   MRS.    M.    L.    RAYNE. 


CHICAGO: 

W.  B.  KEEN,  COOKE  &  CO. 
1876. 


COPYRIGHT. 


A.  D.   1876. 


Lakebide  Press,  Chicago. 


?s 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Our  INTO  THE  WORLD 5 

.CHAPTER  II. 
SWEET  HOME 13 

CHAPTER  III. 
CHICAGO 22 

CHAPTER  IV. 
HUNTING  A  SITUATION 33 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  WOMAN  WITH  A  MISSION 42 

CHAPTER  VI. 
"ONLY  A  SHOP  GIRL" 49 

CHAPTER  VII. 
IN  THE  TOILS 55 

CHAPTER  VIII- 
REUBEN  HARLOW 62 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THANKSGIVING  DAY _ 70 

CHAPTER  X. 
ROMANCE  AND  REALITY.. 79 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  CLUB  HOUSE.. 89 

CHAPTER  XII. 
MRS.  MONROE'S  HUSBAND 102 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
JUDAS  IN  PETTICOATS 110 

(3) 


894430 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  FEATHER  HE  DID  NOT  WEAR..  ..................  126 

CHAPTER  XV. 
ON  THE  BRINK  ...............  .....................  185 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
TANGLED  THREADS  ___  ______  ...........  ..  ...........  144 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
MARGARET'S  STORY  ....................  ............  156 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
OVER  ............................................  165 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
THE  RETURN  HOME  ........  ..-  .................  ..  172 


CHAPTER  XX. 
REAPING  THE  REWARD  _____  .......................  179 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
LOST  AND  FOUND  ............  .  ....................  .  187 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
THE  NARROW  PATH  ...............................  191 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
THE  GOSPEL  OP  PEACE  .........  ....................  200 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
IN  SOLEMN  CONCLAVE  ____  .........  ...  .....  .  .......  209 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
MRS.  GRUNDY  AND  FATE  ..........................  220 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
THE  GOSPEL  OF  GUSH  ___________  .................  231 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
VIRTUE  PROTECTED  ...  ..........................  ._  237 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
NOTHING  BUT  LEAVES..  .  248 


AGAINST  FATE. 


CHAPTEK  I. 

OUT    INTO    THE    WORLD. 

"How  shall  it  be  with  her,  the  tender  stranger, 

Fair-faced  and  gentle-eyed, 

Before  whose  unstained  feet  the  world's  rude  highway 
Stretches  so  strange  and  wide?" 

OOD-BYE,  Mother!    Now  don't  you 
fret   about  me   at  all.     I  shall  write 
often  and   tell   you   just  how   I    get 
And  may  be  I'll  come  home  at  Christ 
mas.    You  shall  have  a  new  dress  for  a  present, 
if  I  don't  come.    I  am  going  to  save  my  money 
on  purpose.     I^ow  don't  cry,  please,  there's  a 
dear  good  mother.     It  will  all  come  out  right." 
"  I  hope  it  may,  Jennie,"  answered  the  mother, 
sadly  ;  "  but,  oh  dear  !     I've  never  slept  a  night 
(5) 


along. 


6  AGAINST   FATE. 

without  you  under  the  same  roof,  and  if  anything 
should  happen  it  would  break  my  heart.  It  does 
seem  to  me  that  I  shall  never  have  you  back 
again,  the  Jennie  T  see  before  me.  Somehow  I 
mistrust  that  woman  you  are  going  to.  I  wish 
we  knew  more  about  her.  She  has  promised 
well,  I  know,  but  will  she  keep  her  promises  ? " 
"  It  will  not  take  long  to  decide  that,  mother  ! " 
"  Yes  ;  and  I  suppose  it  will  be  better  than 
going  into  a  store  ;  but  oh,  it  does  seem  as 
though  I  cannot  give  you  up  !  " 

Mrs.  Armstrong  looked  at  her  daughter,  and 
it  required  all  the  stern  discipline  of  her  reserved 
nature  to  keep  her  from  breaking  down  utterly, 
as  she  parted  with  her  only  child,  fearing  in  her 
heart,  she  knew  not  what  evil,  poor  woman  !  She 
had  fallen  into  the  useless  habit  of  looking  on 
the  dark  side  of  everything,  which  was  no  very 
surprising  circumstance,  considering  that  her 
blessings  all  came  in  disguise  ;  even  this  pre 
cious  child,  growing  from  lovely  girlhood  into 
lovelier  womanhood,  had  always  been  a  source 
of  exquisite  sorrow.  How  to  get  enough  to 
clothe  her  comfortably,  to  give  her  even  an 
ordinary  education,  to  surround  her  with  the 


OUT   INTO   THE   WORLD.  7 

smallest  and  poorest  luxuries  —  a  few  of  the 
many  little  pleasures  which  young  girls  crave  — 
this  had  been  the  end  and  aim  of  the  mother's 
existence.  Herself  a  disappointed  woman,  she 
had  struggled  hard  to  gain  for  Jennie  something 
of  all  she  had  missed.  She  had  tried  and  failed. 
Many  nights  the  mother  had  lain  awake  schem 
ing  and  planning  for  Jennie,  while  the  girl  slept 
and  found  in  rosy  dreams  a  compensation  for 
the  day's  losses. 

"  You  haven't  half  enough  clothes,"  continued 
Mrs.  Armstrong,  looking  wistfully  at  the  little 
red  leather  trunk  on  the  stoop.  "That  merino 
is  worn  so  thin  it  didn't  make  over  very  well,  and 
the  plush  cape  looks  faded;  but  the  brown  rep  is 
as  good  as  new.  That  will  wear  all  winter  com 
fortably.  Did  your  father  give  you  any  money  ?" 
This  last  was  asked  in  an  eager  whisper,  with  a 
wistful  glance  toward  the  tall,  solemn  looking 
man  who  was  harnessing  a  rickety  horse  into  a 
more  rickety  wagon,  preparatory  to  taking  his 
daughter  to  the  depot. 

"No,"  answered  the  girl  in  a  low  tone, 
reddening  slowly  as  she  spoke.  She  hated  the 
name  of  money,  for  it  represented  to  her  all 


8  AGAINST    FATE. 

mean  and  sordid  make-shifts  !  If  she  could  only 
have  a  room  full  of  it,  she  would  be  happy ;  but 
these  crumbs  from  the  table — bah  ! 

"  Well !  here  are  two  dollars,"  said  Mrs.  Arm 
strong,  "  all  I  have  in  the  world.  Perhaps  your 
father  will  give  you  a  little  more,  and  you  must 
be  careful  of  it,  dear,  for  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
where  the  next  is  coming  from  !" 

As  Jennie  had  never  received  a  shilling  in  her 
life,  without  a  table  of  instructions  added,  this 
caution  was  unnecessary.  She  took  the  money 
in  a  thankless  sort  of  way  and  crushed  it  into 
the  palm  of  her  cotton  glove.  She  wanted  to 
throw  it  down,  trample  upon  it  and  make  it 
feel  how  lightly  she  esteemed  it,  the  miserable 
paltry  sum !  A  very  human  girl,  this  one, 
you  see  ! 

But  she  saw  the  tearful  face  of  that  dear,  good 
mother,  who  had  stood  like  a  wall  of  defense 
between  her  and  life  ever  since  she  entered  it, 
and  now  she  was  going  out  into  the  great  beau 
tiful  world  without  her  !  It  seemed  so  ungrate 
ful  after  all  that  mother  had  done. 

And  sobbing  as  she  had  not  done  since  a  child, 
Jennie  clung  about  her  mother's  neck,  kissing 


OUT   INTO   THE   WORLD.  9 

and  clasping  her  in  a  straining  embrace.  Then 
she  climbed  over  the  high  wheel  into  the  old 
wagon  and  took  her  place  by  her  father's  side  ; 
the  gaunt  old  horse  started  off,  and  they  were 
gone  ! 

But  the  girl  looked  back  with  such  genuine 
sorrow  for  the  miserable  home  she  was  leaving, 
it  was  a  wonder  she  did  not  share  the  fate  of 
that  tragic  woman  perpetuated  in  salt.  As  she 
looked  she  saw  through  the  crystal  of  her  tears, 
that  her  mother  was  hurrying  after  her,  holding 
out  a  small  book. 

"  You  forgot  it,  Jennie,  dear,"  she  said  as  she 
came  up  almost  breathless  from  the  unusual 
exertion  of  running.  "  I  found  it  on  the  bed 
where  you  had  overlooked  it." 

A  frown  ruffled  the  low,  smooth  brow  of  the 
girl,  and  the  pretty  tremulous  lips  contracted 
pettishly,  but  she*  took  the  little  volume  and 
squeezed  the  thin  hand  of  her  mother  lovingly. 

"Read  it  often,  Jennie,  dear;  you  will  find 
peace  and  comfort  there  when  all  else  fails.  I 
have  marked  some  comforting  words  m  the 
Epistle  of  St.  John." 

"  I  hear   the   train,  Mary,"  interrupted   Mr. 


10  AGAINST   FATE. 

Armstrong.  "  Women  never  know  when  to  let 
well  enough  alone.  Get  up,"  said  he  to  his 
horse  ;  "look  out  there  for  the  wheel,"  turning 
to  his  wife,  and  they  started  on. 

"  Good-bye,  Jennie,  darling  ;  be  a  good  girl, 
and  write  home  often."  These  were  the  last 
homely  words  of  the  sorrowing  mother. 

Jennie  soon  dried  her  eyes  —  the  tears  of  youth 
are  easily  exhausted  —  and  began  to  speculate  on 
the  probable  events  of  her  journey  to  Chicago, 
and  the  improbable  happiness  of  the  bright 
future  that  awaited  her  there.  The  little  book 
in  her  lap  slid  down  into  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon  and  lay  there  unnoticed.  She  was  think 
ing  of  all  the  fine  sights  she  would  see,  the  money 
she  would  have,  the  books  she  could  read,  the 
dresses  she  would  wear.  Her  eyes  grew  bright, 
her  cheeks  red,  her  lips  smiled  and  she  sat  like 
an  enchanted  Hebe  beside  her  taciturn  father, 
and  had  traveled  miles  in  imagination  when  they 
stopped  at  the  dingy  depot. 

But  the  mother  had  gone  back  to  the  house — 
had  entered  the  little,  disorderly,  ill  fitted  bed 
room  now  drearily  vacant,  and  had  thrown  her 
self  on  her  knees  beside  the  empty  bed  and  with 


OUT   INTO   THE  WORLD.  II 

her  face  buried  in  her  check  apron,  was  lighting 
a  battle  to  the  death  ! 

There  were  two  other  girls  at  the  depot  wait 
ing  for  the  coming  train.  They  were  school 
mates  and  companions  of  Jennie's,  and  were  now 
looking  for  her  with  much  solicitude,  as  the 
three  were  going  together  to  seek  their  fortunes 
in  the  city.  One  had  been  a  teacher  of  the  dis 
trict  school  in  the  next  township  for  the  last 
year,  and  expected  to  obtain  a  situation  in  the 
public  schools  of  Chicago  at  a  better  remunera 
tion.  The  other  was  a  bright  girl,  who  had 
assisted  her  widowed  mother  by  clerking  in  the 
one  general  store  —  the  place  being  post  office, 
dry  goods  shop,  and  grocery  combined.  She 
hoped  to  realize  more  money,  and  see  something 
of  the  world.  These  two,  Lucia  Winne  and  Eva 
Bartlett,  were  surrounded  by  their  friends,  who 
had  come  to  see  them  off,  and  as  they  heard  the 
whistle  of  the  fast-nearing  train  they  watched 
anxiously  for  Jennie  Armstrong,  fearing  that  she 
would  be  left.  But  just  at  the  last  moment  the 
old  horse  reached  the  platform  and  Jennie  sprung 
out. 

"  I  was  sure  you  would  miss  the  train,"  said 


12  AGAINST   FATE. 

Eva,  running  up  to  her,  "  and  that  would  have 
been  too  bad  ;  we  want  to  start  with  even  luck. 
Here  is  the  train  now.  I  must  say  good-bye  to 
them  all,"  and  she  ran  back  to  the  group  at  the 
door. 

Mr.  Armstrong  kissed  his  daughter  after  the 
fashion  of  men  in  parting  with  the  dearest 
objects  of  their  affections.  He  neither  cried  nor 
looked  concerned,  but,  it  is  to  be  presumed  that 
he  felt  quite  as  badly  as  though  he  had. 

As  the  train  started  he  stood  silent  and  apart 
from  the  rest,  a  cold,  misanthropic  man,  watch 
ing  with  eyes  that  no  tear  dimmed,  this  farewell 
of  his  only  child,  "sole  daughter  of  his  house 
and  heart."  He  saw  the  three  young  faces  at 
the  car  windows  —  thought  how  much  fairer 
Jennie's  was  than  the  others,  yet,  they  were 
pretty  girls,  too  ;  and  then  as  the  cars  faded 
away  in  the  distance  he  roused  himself  with  a 
sigh,  wondering  why  any  of  them  had  ever  been 
born. 

But  the  three  girls  had  no  dark  forebodings. 
They  knew  naught  of  the  curse  of  a  granted 
prayer ! 


CHAPTEK  II. 

SWEET    HOME. 

'These  are  the  hopes,  that  one  by  one 
Died,  even  as  we  gave  them  birth  ! " 

HEN  the  cars  bearing  the  three  girls 
had  passed  quite  out  of  sight,  the 
^  group  on  the  platform  dispersed.  Mr. 
Armstrong  untied  the  old  horse  which  was  nib 
bling  the  scant  autumn  grass  at  halter  length, 
and  soon  the  three  dilapidated  structures  —  man, 
horse,  and  vehicle  —  were  jogging  back  on  the 
way  home.  They  were  nearly  there  when  sud 
denly  a  man  stepped  out  from  a  farm -gate  by 
the  roadside,  and  approached  Mr.  Armstrong 
with  a  decided  gesture,  commanding  him  to 
stop,  which  he  did,  waiting  without  a  change 
of  countenance  for  what  was  coming. 

The  man  who  approached  was  young,  of  slen 
der,  wiry  frame,  and  with  a  pale,  intelligent  face, 
(13) 


14  AGAINST   FATE. 

denoting  a  superabundance  of  nervous  force. 
His  black  hair  was  in  strange  contrast  to  his 
pale  blue  eyes  that  glowed  with  anger  or  passion 
of  some  kind.  His  lips  were  thin  and  com 
pressed.  He  placed  one  foot  on  the  wheel  hub, 
and  grasped  the  old  box  seat  with  wrhite,  slender 
fingers  that  looked  very  unlike  a  farmer  lad's. 

"  So  Jennie 's  gone,  has  she  ?"  he  began,  look 
ing  hard  at  Mr.  Armstrong,  "  and  not  so  much 
as  said  good-bye  to  me.  I  didn't  expect  or 
deserve  such  treatment  as  that,  Mr.  Armstrong. 
Were  you  afraid  to  let  me  know  she  was  going 
off  yonder  ?  There 's  some  difference  between 
being  an  honest  man's  wife,  and  receiving  the 
love  and  care  of  a  whole  lifetime,  and  being  a 
stranger  in  that  place  of  temptation  and  sin. 
Maybe  she  will  find  it  out,  too." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  answered  Mr.  Armstrong,  in  his 
cold,  passionless  voice ;  "  but  Jennie  does  n't 
know  her  own  mind.  It  isn't  my  fault  that 
she  will  not  be  your  wife,  Reuben.  She  does 
not  care  for  you,  nor  any  one  else  in  that  way." 

"  She  did  care  for  me,  you  know  she  did,  before 
that  fine  scamp  from  the  city  came  up  here  to 
break  his  neck  —  how  I  wish  he  had  !  —  and  have 


SWEET   HOME.  15 

her  wait  on  him.  She  always  loved  me,  and  has 
told  me  so  a  thousand  times.  You  know  it,  Mr. 
Armstrong,  and  you  were  quite  willing  she  should 
marry  me  before  that  fellow  came  !  And  now 
she 's  gone  where  she  "11  find  him,  and  she  '11  be 
lost  to  you  and  to  me 

"  Stop  !"  said  Mr.  Armstrong,  sternly;  "Jennie 
is  a  child  !  She  is%too  young  to  marry  any  man, 
or  know  what  love  means.  She  has  gone  to  Chi 
cago  to  earn  her  living  honestly.  I  'm  in  debt 
over  head  and  ears.  There  ain't  enough  picking 
for  one  on  that  old  worn-out  farm.  A  young 
girl  wants  a  heap  of  things  that  you  and  I  know 
nothing  about,  and  when  Mrs.  Monroe  wrote 
and  offered  Jennie  this  situation  in  her  family, 
it  seemed  the  best  thing  for  her.  We  are  as  poor 
as  poverty  ;  there  ain't  no  discounting  that,  and 
if  anything  happened  to  me,  they  could  n't  earn 
their  salt  here.  I  can  't  argue  with  you  any  fur 
ther,  Harlow,  but  that 's  the  truth  of  the  matter. 
If  Jennie  's  disappointed  you,  I  'm  sorry;  but  she 
has  never  told  me  anything.  She's  only  just 
stopped  playing  with  dolls,  and  would  make  a 
poor  show  at  housekeeping,  I  'm  thinking." 

The  young  man  drew  back  as  the  horse  moved 


1 6  AGAINST   FATE. 

on  in  obedience  to  a  touch  from  the  whip.  "And 
I  loved  her  so,''  he  muttered,  "  and  that  infernal 
rascal  has  succeeded  in  getting  her  away.  "What 
a  drivelling  old  dolt  her  father  is,  not  to  see 
through  him  ! " 

He  turned  away  with  a  white  face  and  clenched 
hands,  a  desperate  man,  all  for  the  sake  of  one 
baby-faced  girl,  who,  at  that  moment,  had  forgot 
ten  his  existence. 

Mr.  Armstrong  went  home  and  put  out  the 
old  horse.  As  he  ran  the  wagon  into  its  shed 
he  saw  the  little  book  lying  in  the  bottom.  He 
picked  it  up  and  opened  it  at  the  fly-leaf.  There 
was  a  tender  inscription  by  the  mother's  hand, 
written  only  yesterday.  He  could  not  bear  to 
tell  her  that  Jennie  had  forgotten  it.  "  I  reckon 
she  did  n't  want  it,"  he  said.  And  after  all,  what 
wonder  !  How  can  the  bounding  heart  of  youth 
take  hold  on  the  precious  words  of  St.  John  ? 
Later,  what  tender  balm  they  are  to  the  weary, 
wounded  heart. 

"Did  she  go  off  cheerful  like?"  asked  Mrs. 
Armstrong,  as  her  husband  entered  the  kitchen. 
Her  voice  was  shaky  and  her  eyes  suspiciously 
red. 


SWEET   HOME.  I/ 

"  Cheerful  enough,"  answered  the  man. '  "  I 
guess  she  won't  be  sorry  of  the  change.  Its 
mighty  nice  riding  around  the  country,  making 
wreaths  of  autumn  leaves,  and  drawing  trees  and 
rocks  on  white  paper  ;  but  grubbing  among  the 
same  for  a  living,  and  not  getting  it,  is  a  different 
thing.  I  'm  sick  enough  of  it  for  my  part." 

His  wife  did  not  answer  him.  lie  had  been 
an  unsuccessful  lawyer,  an  unsuccessful  politi 
cian,  and  a  still  more  unsuccessful  farmer.  It 
was  the  man,  not  the  luck  that  was  wrong. 
He  had  lost  friends,  reputation,  and  money  ;  but 
his  wife  was  his  for  richer  or  poorer,  for  better 
or  worse. 

"  I  saw  Harlow,"  he  said  presently,  "  and  he 
seemed  cross  and  disappointed  about  Jennie. 
She  never  told  him  when  she  was  going,  or  said 
good-bye.  Seems  to  me  she  did  n't  do  just  right. 
Reuben  has  done  a  good  deal  for  her." 

"  He  is  too  tyrannical  and  stormy,"  said  his 
wife.  "The  very  way  in  which  he  loves  Jennie 
would  make  her  unhappy.  She  has  always  loved 
him  as  a  brother,  but  she  will  never  care  for  him 
in  any  other  way." 

"  You  don't  think  Jennie  cared  for  that  Ross 
2 


1 8  AGAINST  FATE. 

Farnham,  do  you?"  asked  Mr.  Armstrong,  slowly, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ceiling,  as  if  he  were 
reciting  a  lesson. 

"  I  have  not  thought  much  about  it,  Rich 
ard.  He  paid  her  a  great  deal  of  attention 
when  he  got  well,  but  there  was  no  love- 
making.  I  know  that  it  is  through  his  in 
fluence  Mrs.  Monroe  has  sent  for  Jennie.  What 
a  splendid  thing  it  would  be  if  it  should  turn 
out  in  that  way." 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  know.  Twenty  years  ago,  Mary, 
your  father  would  have  set  his  dog  on  Farnham's 
father  if  he  had  presumed  to  cross  the  door-sill. 
The  son  is  a  gentleman  and  not  a  charlatan,  but  I 
reckon  he  's  got  some  of  his  father's  tastes.  Still, 
money  and  education  do  a  vast  deal  for  one  in 
this  world,  and  he  's  young.  Farnham  's  worth 
a  million  and  we  are  not  worth  a  cent.  But  you 
see,  Ross  Farnham  can  choose  from  among  the 
young  ladies  of  his  own  society.  What  chance 
would  our  little  girl  have  against  them  ?" 

'•  Such  tilings  have  happened  before,"  replied 
the  mother.  "  Jennie  has  beauty  —  there 's  no 
harm  in  Saying  that  —  and  she  is  well  educated. 
She  would  pick  up  accomplishments  easily,  and 


SWEET   HOME.  19 

she  is  the  lovingest  little  thing  in  the  world," 
concluded  this  loyal  heart. 

"Well!  I  don't  see  exactly  with  your  eyes, 
Mary,"  answered  her  husband.  "  I  am  afraid 
that  when  Jennie  sees  the  city  ladies  in  their 
fine  feathers,  it  will  make  her  look  very  poor  and 
dowdy." 

Poor  and  dowdy  !  the  mother  felt  as  if  it 
were  blasphemy  to  speak  in  this  way  of  her 
absent  darling.  At  the  same  time  the  words 
brought  with  them  a  comforting  assurance  that 
in  the  great  Garden  City  her  little  wild  flower 
might  be  overlooked  by  evil  eyes.  Better  be 
a  daisy  than  a  rose,  when  the  king-bee  comes 
to  woo. 

The  old  couple  —  old  through  disappointment 
and  care  and  hard  labor,  rather  than  through 
years  —  sat  down  to  supper  alone  for  the  first 
time.  The  table  ware  was  of  the  poorest  and 
plainest,  and  so  was  the  fare.  If  there  was  no 
out-spoken  sentiment  of  love  between  the  two, 
there  was  respect  and  harmony,  whicli  are  often 
more  enduring.  They  had  been  lovers,  but  pov 
erty  and  sorrow  had  come  between  the  two  so 
often  with  their  spectral  faces,  they  had  fright- 


20  AGAINST   FATE. 

ened  love  away— at  least,  the  love  that  expresses 
itself  in  endearment  and  sentiment. 

"  She  must  be  nearly  there  by  this  time,"  said 
the  mother,  looking  up  at  the  clock. 

"I  reckon  she  is  if  there  hasn't  been  any 
accident  to  the  train,"  responded  Mr.  Arm 
strong. 

Accident  to  the  train !  The  mother's  heart 
stood  still  a  moment,  then  a  silent  prayer  went 
up  to  God  for  her  darling's  protection.  Strange ! 
that  she  should  pray.  She  had  asked  and  not 
received  all  her  lifetime ;  had  wrestled  for  her 
treasures  as  fervently  as  ever  Jacob  did,  and 
they  had  vanished  from  her  grasp  while  she 
sought  to  keep  them.  Why  should  she  pray  ? 
Does  the  Infinite  God  ever  change  any  of  His 
plans  because  His  creatures  beseech  Him  in 
anguish,  on  their  knees  ?  And  if  her  darling 
should  be  brought  back  to  her  white  and  still, 
the  young  life  expelled  in  a  moment  from  its 
transient  home  to  return  to  Him  who  gave  it, 
would  it  not  be  something  to  thank  Him  for  ? 
Could  not  selfish  love  say,  "She  has  escaped  all 
I  have  suifered.  She  has  gone  without  sin  or 
sorrow  to  wear  her  crown!"  Ah,  dear  Lord  !  we 


SWEET   HOME. 


21 


are  human  !  It  was  the  man  after  God's  own 
heart  who  beat  his  breast  and  cried,  "  Would 
God  I  had  died  for  thee." 


CHAPTEK  III. 


CHICAGO. 

"  Man  made  the  town." 

T  was  only  a  six  hours'  ride,  but  many  a 
long  journey  has  been  less  important. 
The  three  girls  were  delighted  with 
everybody  and  everything  they  saw.  It  was 
like  going  into  a  new  world,  to  leave  their 
quiet  country  homes,  and  see  so  many  new  faces 
and  new  sights.  Lucia  was  the  sober  one  of 
the  trio,  and  kept  the  others  within  check,  with 
out  at  all  dampening  their  pleasure,  which  was 
almost  riotous. 

It  seemed  to  Jennie  that  they  never  would  get 
through  the  streets  and  past  the  houses,  all  jum 
bled  together,  and  into  the  depot,  where  they  were 
greeted  by  a  noisy  gang  of  hackmen  who  stood 

in  a  row  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  for  all  the  world 

(22) 


CHICAGO.  23 

like  a  lot  of  school-boys  in  a  class,  each  one  de 
claiming  his  piece  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  What  will  become  of  us  if  your  brother  is  n't 
here,  Lucia,"  said  Eva,  half  ready  to  cry,  "three 
lone,  lorn,  unprotected  females.  Do  let  us  pull 
our  veils  over  our  faces  and  make  believe  we  are 
vinegar-faced  and  ancient." 

"  Let  me  assume  my  Boston  manner,"  said 
Lucia.  "  Now  where  are  my  reading  glasses. 
There  !  I  am  equal  to  a  whole  community  of  hack- 
men.  Now,  young  ladies,  follow  me." 

But  the  persistent  hackmen  closed  around  the 
girls,  and  continued  to  bawl  out  their  noisy  litera 
ture  of  travel  into  their  stunned  ears,  until  it 
seemed  to  Jennie  as  if  she  had  never  in  her  life 
been  so  frightened  and  bewildered.  A  thousand 
men  seemed  to  be  pointing  their  whips  at  her, 
and  shouting  "  Right  this  way  for  the  Tremont 
House  —  Grand  Pc-fic  'tel,  this  way,  Miss;  take 
yer  to  any  place  yer  wants  to  go.  This  way  for 
the  Sherman  'Ouse.  Get  out  Bill,  these  ladies 
belong  to  me.  'Mercial  Hotel  carriage  right  here. 
Palmer  House,  did  you  say,  Miss  ? "  By  this 
time  the  crowd  had  thinned  out  to  about  a  dozen, 
but  they  impudently  blocked  the  way,  and  Lucia 


24  AGAINST   FATE. 

was  ordering  them,  in  her  most  authoritative 
schoolma'm  manner  to  allow  them  to  pass,  when 
Jennie  cried  out  "  There 's  your  brother  Albert, 
Lucia  !  "  A  young  man  at  once  stepped  forward, 
and  the  girls  joined  in  a  chorus  of  delight.  He 
kissed  Lucia,  and  shook  hands  heartily  with  the 
other  two  girls. 

"  Oh,  Albert,  those  horrid  men !  Do  send  them 
away,"  cried  Lucia.  But  they  all  disappeared 
like  magic  when  they  saw  the  gentleman. 

"  I  could  not  imagine  what  they  were  shouting 
at,"  said  Mr.  Winne,  laughing;  "  they  completely 
hid  you  from  view.  I  expect  they  were  looking 
for  a  rich  harvest  from  you  little  country  girls." 

"  You  ought  to  have  seen  Lucia,  Mr.  Winne," 
said  Jennie,  "  I  think  she  was  going  to  read  her 
diploma  to  them.  I  never  saw  anything  so  funny 
in  my  life." 

"  Well,  Miss  Jennie,  you  may  prepare  for  a  suc 
cession  of  wonderful  surprises  from  now  hence 
forth.  Everything  here  is  on  a  magnificent  scale. 
We  take  the  most  exaggerated  views  of  all  things. 
But  come  into  the  reception  room  while  I  look 
after  your  baggage.  You  will  all  go  home  with 
me." 


"  A  tluiuxand  'i/mn  seemed  to  be  pointing  their  whips  at 
r:'—  Page  23. 


CHICAGO.  •         25 

"Mrs.  Monroe  promised  to  meet  me,"  said 
Jennie,  "  but  there  was  so  much  confusion  I  ex 
pect  she  missed  me.  Of  course  I  should  not 
know  her." 

"  "Well,  I  will  see  that  you  get  there  safely  to 
morrow,"  said  Mr.  Winne.  "  Here  is  the  ladies' 
room.  Sit  here  for  a  few  moments,  while  I  look 
up  your  checks." 

The  place  was  dreary  and  uninviting,  and  a  few 
weary  looking  people  were  waiting  in  the  listless 
manner  that  travelers  wear.  The  three  girls  sat 
down  together,  frightened  and  wondering.  Every 
moment  the  door  opened  and  some  one  came  in, 
stared  at  them,  at  the  closed  ticket  office,  and  went 
out.  A  young  man  in  a  nobby  suit  of  gray,  with 
a  blue  tie  and  a- paper  collar,  leered  at  them  like 
some  grotesque  monster,  and  passed  harmlessly 
out  again.  Then  a  rather  tall,  well-dressed,  fash 
ionable-looking  man  came  in,  with  an  elegant 
nonchalant  air,  and  an  easy,  graceful  walk.  He 
half  raised  his  hat,  in  the  most  respectful  manner, 
as  he  passed  the  girls,  and  bowed  slightly,  as  if 
deprecating  the  intrusion.  Jennie  started  up, 
clasped  her  hands,  and  then  sank  back  into  her 
seat.  She  knew  this  elegant  gentleman,  and  her 


26  AGAINST  FATE. 

heart  gave  a  great  bound.  It  was  Ross  Farnham, 
and  he  was  looking  for  her. 

Eva  whispered  to  her,  "  It 's  the  gentleman  that 
was  at  your  house  last  summer.  Why  do  n  't  you 
speak  to  him  ? " 

Speak  to  him !  She  wished  herself  miles  away. 
Oh!  how  poor  and  insignificant  she  felt.  She 
drew  her  coarse  shawl  about  her  —  the  shawl  her 
mother  had  robbed  herself  of  to  give  to  her  child ; 
she  had  thought  it  so  bright  and  pretty  then; 
now  she  hated  it.  She  tried  to  hide  the  little 
hands  in  their  cotton  gloves  under  it.  Where, 
now,was  her  independence  of  character ;  the  jaunty 
insolence,  the  flash  and  sparkle  of  her  coquettish 
beauty  ?  She  was  glad  Eoss  did  not  know  her,  and 
passed  her  by,  and  yet  there  was  a  strange  tremor 
about  her  heart.  That  he  should  not  recognize 
her  was  humiliating,  too.  Then,  while  she  was 
shrinking  back  between  her  companions,  he  turned 
and  saw  her,  and  came  quickly  toward  her,  hold 
ing  out  his  well-gloved  hands  with  a  pleasant 
effusion  of  manner. 

"  Miss  Armstrong!  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you 
with  company.  I  am  very  glad  to  welcome  you 
to  Chicago.  I  understood  Mrs.  Monroe  to  say 


CHICAGO.  27 

you  were  alone.  She  sent  me  down  for  you, 
but  indeed  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  again 
and  to  be  of  service.  I  have  the  carriage  here, 
waiting." 

All  this  time  he  was  shaking  hands  with  that 
warm,  cordial,  yet  respectful  manner  peculiar  to 
him.  Jennie  returned  his  greeting  timidly,  with 
out  a  shade  of  the  audacious  coquetry  with  which 
she  tormented  her  rustic  admirers.  Then  she  in 
troduced  him  to  her  friends,  and  he  proved  to  be 
acquainted  with  Lucia's  brother,  Mr.  Wiune, 
who  greeted  him  very  coolly,  however,  when  he 
came,  and  seemed  disposed  to  insist  on  retaining 
Jennie  under  his  protection,  at  least  until  the  next 
morning.  Ross  Farnham  would  not  listen  to 
this,  and  Jennie  made  her  acjieus,  promising  to  see 
her  friends  often;  and  the  carriage  rolled  away 
with  her  seated  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Farnham. 

It  was  all  like  Heaven  to  poor  Jennie!  The 
easy  luxurious  motion  of  the  comfortable  equip 
age,  the  liveried  driver,  the  gay  panorama  of  city 
streets  all  alight,  seen  now  for  the  first  time,  the 
handsome  impassioned  face  opposite,  and  the 
pleasant  dark  eyes  that  she  felt  were  regarding 
her  with  kindly  interest!  the  girl  forgot  that  she 


28  AGAINST   FATE. 

was  poor  and  dowdy;  that  she  had  come  to  Chi 
cago  to  be  a  sort  of  upper  servant;  and,  leaning 
back  on  the  brown  satin  cushions,  she  took  it  all 
in  as  an  enchanted  dream.  Then  the  carriage 
stopped,  and  Mr.  Farnhain  assisted  her  out,  and 
they  entered  a  great  handsome  hall,  with  plate 
glass  windows  filled  with  a  glittering  show  of 
frosted  silver,  glass,  and  fruit.  There  was  a  long 
salon,  where  gentlemen  were  seated  at  small  ta 
bles,  eating  and  reading.  They  passed  through 
the  entire  length  of  this  to  the  further  end,  where 
ladies  and  gentlemen  were  seated  together  at  the 
tables.  Ross  Farnham  installed  Jennie  comfort 
ably  before  one  of  the  marble  stands,  and  bade 
the  attentive  colored  waiter  furnish  the  best  sup 
per  the  place  afforded.  Jennie  was  half  fright 
ened,  and  wholly  awed  by  the  splendor  about  her; 
by  the  great  glistening  chandeliers,  all  alight  with 
prismatic  hues;  by  the  lofty  frescoed  ceilings, 
and  imposing  array  of  tables,  glittering  with 
silver  and  cut  glass;  and  by  the  colored  attend 
ants  running  noiselessly  about.  Somehow  the 
child  grew  dazzled  and  frightened  by  it  all.  Ross 
Farnham  saw  the  look  of  perplexity  on  th.e  girl's 
face,  and  said  gently: 


CHICAGO.  29 

"  I  knew  you  must  be  hungry,  and  so  brought 
you  here  for  supper,  as  it  is  not  at  all  likely  Mrs. 
Monroe  would  think  to  offer  you  any.  And  now 
you  must  promise  to  eat,"  he  added,  as  the  waiter 
appeared  with  a  heavily  laden  tray.  "  Here  is 
some  tea,  strong  and  hot,  and  a  pot  of  chocolate, 
and  fried  oysters.  Do  you  like  them?  And  French 
rolls  and  broiled  quail;  '•'  and  he  helped  her 
daintily. 

"  Then  this  is  not  Mrs.  Monroe's  ?"  asked  Jennie, 
sipping  her  chocolate  and  looking  about  with  very 
wide  open  eyes. 

Ross  Farnham  was  delighted  with  the  girl's 
navoette.  "Not  exactly,"  he  said,  laughing. 
"Her  salle-a-mange  is  hardly  so  spacious.  This 
is  Thompson's.  All  the  good  people  come  here 
to  eat.  There  is  an  odor  of  sanctity  in  the  very 
walls." 

"  There  is  an  odor  of  cooking,  too,"  laughed  J  en- 
nie,  who  was  growing  very  much  at  her  ease.  "  I 
know  one  thing  I  shall  miss  here,  and  that  is  the 
fresh  air ;  it  is  exactly  six  hours  since  I  have  had 
a  mouthful  of  it." 

"  Indeed  you  will  not,"  answered  Ross.  "  I 
will  take  you  out  to  ride  where  the  air  is  just  as 


30  AGAINST  FATE. 

pure  and  good  as  at  Newton.     I  have  a  bay  trot 
ter  that  I  have  reserved  for  this.'' 

Jennie  smiled  with  a  look  of  intense  satisfac 
tion.  She  had  heard  dreadful  stories  of  city  life, 
of  young  girls  enticed  away  from  their  country 
homes,  and  never  heard  of  again.  Of  elegant 
and  handsome  men  who  went  about  in  the  guise 
of  angels  of  light,  but  were  fiends  of  darkness. 
Of  traps  set  for  unwary  souls  —  gilded  traps,  into 
which  they  sometimes  walked  most  willingly. 
She  had  been  so  well  drilled  into  terror  of  all 
these  nameless  ills  that  she  felt  strong  and  elate 
sitting  there  with  her  friend,  Ross  Farnham,  to 
protect  her,  and  all  this  atmosphere  of  luxury  and 
respectability  about  her.  She  grew  chatty  and 
confidential;  recalled  little  incidents  of  the  past 
summer,  when  they  went  harvesting  and  nutting 
together,  and  asked  innumerable  questions  about 
Mrs.  Monroe  and  her  surroundings,  and  laughed 
her  own  cheery  laugh. 

Ross  Farnham  was  charmed  !  The  child  did 
not  know  her  own  value;  did  not  know  that  she 
was  as  lovely  as  an  angel.  But  she  did  know,  by 
a  girl's  quick  intuition,  that  she  was  acceptable 
to  Ross  Farnham ;  that  he  did  not  think  her  poor 


CHICAGO.  31 

or  cormtryfied  or  shabby.  He,  the  elegant  man 
of  the  world,  had  spent  many  an  hour  willingly 
in  her  society,  nor  had  he  ever  given  her  a  word 
or  a  look  that  was  not  respectful,  while  there  was 
ever  an  undertone  of  tenderness  that  set  her  heart 
beating  wildly.  There  was  that  same  manner 
now,  as  he  clasped  her  coarse  shawl  about  her  as 
though  it  were  the  mantle  of  a  princess,  and 
handed  her,  the  little  country  rustic  !  back  into 
the  throne-like  carriage  waiting  at  the  door  in 
the  strong  gas-light.  As  she  turned  to  look  out 
a  moment  into  the  lighted  streets  she  saw  a  woman, 
young,  fair,  dressed  as  if  for  a  ball,  in  silk  and 
lace  and  glittering  jewels.  She  came  out  from 
the  shadow  and  stood  a  moment  gazing  at  the 
carriage  as  it  rolled  away,  and  there  was  such  a 
look  of  misery  and  hate  on  her  haggard  face, 
such  a  revelation  of  a  soul  in  the  throes  of  moral 
death,  that  Jennie  turned  shuddering  away  and 
nestled  closer  to  Ross  Farnham  for  protection. 

In  a  short  time  the  carriage  stopped,  and  now 
at  a  handsome  residence  on  the  West  Side. 

'-  This  is  Mrs.  Monroe's,"  said  Mr.  Farnham, 
as  he  assisted  Jennie  from  the  carriage  and  accom 
panied  her  up  the  steps.  He  rang  the  bell,  and 


32  AGAINST    FATE. 

a  servant  opened  the  door.  She  was  expecting 
them,  and  at  once  relieved  Jennie  of  her  satchel. 

"Are  you  coming  in,  Mr.  Farnham?"  she  asked 
respectfully. 

"  Not  to  night,  Esther;  I  will  see  Mrs.  Monroe 
to-morrow.  I  suppose  she  is  as  well  as  usual." 


"  She  caitte  oat  from  the  tslmdow  and  stood  a  moment  looking 
at  the  carriage  is  it  rolled  awa,y."—P&gc  31. 


CHAPTEE   IV. 


HUNTING    A    SITUATION. 

VA  BAETLETT  spent  two  or  three 
days  at  Mrs.  Winne's  with  Lucia,  and 
then  turned  her  steps  toward  the  situ 
ation  she  desired  to  find.  She  had  hoped  that 
Lucia's  brother  would  help  her  in  this,  and  that 
perhaps  Lucia  herself  would  be  able  to  go  out 
with  her  in  her  quest  at  the  various  stores,  but 
she  soon  learned  that  Chicago  people  are  a  very 
busy  people,  and  that  for  every  situation  vacant, 
there  at  least  two  hundred  applicants,  and  that 
as  a  rule  the  merchants  care  much  less  about  the 
necessities  and  sensibilities  of  their  clerks  than 
they  do  about  their  capacities  as  good  saleswo 
men.  Mr.  Winne  filled  a  government  position, 
being  an  employee  of  the  post-office.  He  did  find 
time  to  see  the  superintendent  of  schools  and 
introduce  his  sister  Lucia  to  him,  and  he  gave 
Eva  a  slip  of  paper  containing  the  names  of  the 
3  (33) 


34  AGAINST  FATE. 

leading  dry-goods  houses,  with  the  street  and 
number  attached,  telling  her  as  he  did  so  that  she 
was  welcome  to  stay  at  his  house  until  she  found 
a  situation.  His  wife,  however,  was  a  peevish 
invalid  with  her  arms  full  of  little  children  — 
luxuries  his  small  salary  did  not  justify  —  and 
she  spent  the  most  of  her  time  in  berating  their 
one  servant,  and  cheapening  the  prices  of  living, 
with  the  results  of  which  she  regaled  her  hus 
band  when  he  went  home  at  night  tired  and 
embarrassed.  Both  girls  hated  the  stifled,  sordid 
atmosphere,  and  determined  to  get  out  of  it  as 
soon  as  possible. 

Lucia  went  first.  As  she  passed  a  good  exam 
ination  and  obtained  a  first-class  certificate,  she 
was  at  once  called  upon  as  a  substitute  for  a 
teacher  who  was  ill,  and  her  services  giving  sat 
isfaction  she  retained  the  place,  the  convalescent 
teacher  being  placed  in  a  department  where  the 
work  was  lighter.  Lucia  found  it  convenient 
to  pay  the  same  board  which  her  brother's  wife 
demanded  of  her,  at  a  place  nearer  to  the  school, 
and  in  a  family  whose  joys  and  sorrows  were  not 
a  matter  of  traffic.  In  her  own  little  room  she 
could  rest  and  enjoy  herself  after  her  own  fash- 


HUNTING  A   SITUATION.  35 

ion,  and  she  soon  found  that  a  teacher  is  always 
welcome  in  the  best  society.  Education  does 
that,  at  least,  for  its  servitors. 

"  Do  .you  want  anybody  in  the  store  ?"  This 
was  the  form  of  Eva's  address  as  she  walked 
from  one  place  to  another,  following  the  direc 
tion  on  her  slip  of  paper.  Of  course,  the  answer 
was  no,  and  sometimes  it  was  accompanied  by  a 
contemptuous  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  At  last 
she  entered  a  large  dry-goods  store  on  the  west 
side  of  State  street,  and  asked  the  same  ques 
tion  of  a  lady  who  stood  behind  a  show  case. 
"  You  will  have  to  see  the  proprietor,"  answered 
the  young  woman,  gently.  "  He  is  there  talking 
to  a  salesman,"  pointing  in  the  direction.  "  "Wait 
till  he  turns  away,  and  then  speak  to  him." 

"  Oh  !  do  you  think  he  will  want  me  ?"  asked 
Eva,  almost  hysterically.  She  was  so  tired  of 
tramping  the  streets,  and  getting  no  encourage 
ment.  The  young  lady  behind  the  show  case 
looked  at  her  attentively.  Eva  was  rather  tall 
and  large,  a  blonde  with  violet  eyes  and  a  pro 
fusion  of  wavy  hair,  too  fair  for  golden  but  very 
soft  and  pretty  in  its  eifect.  She  was  a  girl  who 
could  dress  up  attractively  in  a  very  little,  but 


36  AGAINST  FATE. 

would  look  magnificent  in  rich  and  elegant  cos 
tumes.  The  pale  young  lady  whom  Eva  had 
addressed  scanned  her  with  professional  eyes, 
and  at  her  eager  "  oh,  do  you  think  he  will  want 
me  ?"  answered  sorrowfully,  "  I  think  he  will." 
Something  in  the  answer  restrained  Eva's  glad 
ness. 

"  Is  the  place  so  very  hard  ?"  she  asked. 

"Hard  enough,"  replied  the  other,  dusting 
out  her  show  case,  and  then  she  turned  away  to 
wait  on  a  lady  who  dragged  any  amount  of  pea 
cock  finery  after  her.  By  this  time  the  proprie 
tor  of  the  store  had  finished  his  instructions  to 
his  salesman.  This  was  Eva's  chance.  With  her 
heart  in  her  mouth  she  approached  the  gentle 
man  and  asked  the  usual  question. 

He  was  a  handsome,  elderly  man,  stout  and 
florid,  with  a  profusion  of  curly,  iron-gray  hair. 
He  wore  a  pair  of  handsome,  gold-rimmed 
glasses,  and  he  looked  at  her  a  full  minute 
before  speaking,  then  he  answered  her  question 
by  asking  another. 

"What  can  you  do?" 

For  answer  Eva  gave  him  her  letters  of  refer 
ence  from  the  country  storekeeper  who  had 


HUNTING  A  SITUATION.  37 

employed  her.  He  stood  a  moment  in  deep 
thought. 

"  I  hardly  know.  It  seems  as  though  I  had 
heard  them  say  they  needed  a  good  figure  in  the 
shawl  room.  You  would  do,"  he  said,  turning 
Eva  round  as  if  she  were  indeed  a  lay  figure. 
"  Come  with  me,"  he  added,  and  went  directly  to 
the  young  lady  to  whom  Eva  had  first  spoken. 
'•  Miss  Holmes,  if  there  is  a  vacancy  in  the  shawl 
department,  will  you  try  this  young  woman  ? 
You  can  instruct  her  in  the  usual  duties,  and  let 
her  know  the  rules.  I  will  see  you  to-morrow," 
and  he  bowed  courteously  and  withdrew. 

Had  the  skies  fallen  ?  Was  this  weary,  dis 
consolate  Eva  Bartlett,  who  had  trudged  away 
a  week,  after  what  seemed  a  forlorn  hope,  now 
an  employee  of  the  flourishing  dry-goods  house 
of  Bates  &  Rockwell?  The  sad,  stern  face  behind 
the  counter  recalled  her. 

"  Where  are  you  stopping  ?"  asked  Miss 
Holmes,  putting  her  laces  in  order  while  she 
talked.  Eva  informed  her,  and  also  told  of  her 
necessity  of  at  once  finding  a  boarding  place. 
"You  can  board  where  I  do,  at  the  Woman's 
Home,  on  Jackson  street." 


38  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  Is  it  a  hospital  ?"  asked  Eva,  the  name  sug 
gesting  some  public  institution. 

Miss  Holmes  smiled  a  little  at  this.  "  It  is, 
after  a  sort,"  she  said,  "  a  hospital  for  the  halt 
and  the  blind.  At  least,  it  is  a  refuge  from  the 
average  boarding-house  keeper.  You  can  have 
a  comfortable  half-room  for  four  dollars  a  week, 
and  if  you  like  music,  a  piano  to  practice  on. 
There  are  no  men  in  the  establishment,  except 
a  caterer,  and  the  women  all  hate  each  other 
cordially ;  but  you  need  have  nothing  to  do 
with  any  of  them  unless  you  wish.  You  can 
come  to-night  if  you  please." 

Eva  thanked  the  young  lady  and  promised  to 
be  there.  Then  she  went  back  to  Mr.  Winne's 
and  reported  progress.  Her  friends  here  consid 
ered  her  particularly  fortunate.  After  tea  she 
packed  up  her  small  wardrobe  and  made  her 
adieux.  Unlike  Lucia,  she  felt  sorry  to  go.  She 
was  accustomed  to  children,  and  liked  the  sticky 
caresses  of  these  little  ones,  and  she  felt  sure  she 
should  prefer  the  disordered  atmosphere  of  the 
family  to  the  restricted  air  of  the  Home.  Yet 
she  felt  that  it  was  best  for  her  to  go. 

Mr.  Winne  accompanied  her  to  her  new  resi- 


HUNTING  A  SITUATION.  39 

dence,  and  saw  her  safe  in  Miss  Holmes'  keeping. 
Then  he  left  her  with  a  kind  invitation  to  spend 
her  Sundays  and  holidays  with  'Lucia  at  his 
house. 

Eva  thought  the  Home  a  palace.  The  great, 
warm  parlors,  the  halls  well  lighted,  and  fur 
nished  so  luxuriously,  seemed  to  her  the  embodi 
ment  of  all  comfort.  Some  of  the  boarders  were 
entertaining  company  in  the  parlors  ;  some  were 
trilling  at  the  pianos  ;  others  walked  arm  in  arm 
through  the  halls.  All  looked  comfortable  and 
happy  and  seemed  to  consider  it  a  home  indeed. 

"I  have  made  an  exchange,  and  you  are  to 
share  rrrp  room,"  said  Miss  Holmes,  as  she  led 
the  way  there.  "  It  is  small,  as  you  see,"  throw 
ing  open  the  door,  "  but  we  can  manage.  It  is 
large  enough  and  fine  enough  for  shop  girls,  as 
you  will  soon  find." 

She  spoke  bitterly,  and  her  manner  impressed 
Eva  disagreeably.  She  needed  to  be  re-assured 
and  comforted  this  first  night  among  strangers, 
but  she  felt  as  though  constantly  menaced  by 
some  hidden  danger. 

But  she  was  a  brave  girl,  and  not  accustomed 
to  thinking  merely  of  her  own  comfort,  so  she 


4O  AGAINST   FATE. 

unpacked  her  trunk  and  hung  up  her  few  dresses 
in  her  half  of  the  closet.  Miss  Holmes  watched 
her  but  did  not  offer  to  assist.  She  seemed  tired 
out,  and  lay  on  the  small  lounge  as  utterly  pros 
trate  as  if  she  never  expected  to  rise  again.  Still, 
she  noted  each  garment  as  it  appeared  and  com 
mented  on  it.  There  were  only  three.  The  last 
was  a  black  alpaca,  plainly  but  neatly  made. 
"That  will  do  for  the  store,"  said  Miss  Holmes. 

"  We  all  wear  black.     It  does  not  show  wear  nor 

\ 

dust,  and  then  with  different  sets  of  collars  and 
cuffs,  you  can  always  appear  to  advantage.  Now 
let  me  advise  you  how  to  dress  for  the  first 
week,  after  that  you  will  see  for  yourself.  Wear 
that  black  dress  with  blue  ribbons,  and-  do  your 
hair  up  in  a  coil  with  a  black  velvet  band  around 
the  front.  That  light  hair  of  yours  will  dress 
splendidly.  Oh  !  child  !  what  did  your  mother 
send  you  here  for  ?  Do  you  know  that  you  have 
walked  right  into  the  lion's  den,  poor  little 
lamb  ?" 

Eva's  large,  intelligent  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
"  Is  it  such  a  wicked  place  ?"  she  said.  "  Well  ! 
I  am  not  afraid.  I  mean  to  attend  to  my  work 
all  day,  and  at  night  I  shall  be  here  with  you, 


HUNTING   A   SITUATION.  41 

and  you  will  help  me  to  be  good  —  I  am  sure 
you  will ;"  and  she  knelt  affectionately  by  the 
low  couch  and  patted  the  hand  that  hung  white 
and  limp  over  the  side. 

But  the  hand  was  instantly  withdrawn,  and 
Margaret  Holmes  rose  stiffly  to  a  sitting  posture 
and  a  bright  red  spot  burned  fiercely  in  either 
cheek. 

"You  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  she  said,  coldly.  Then  she  suddenly 
changed  her  mood  and  sobbed  aloud,  and  Eva 
heard  her  saying,  "  Let  this  be  my  compen 
sation,"  as  she  clasped  the  surprised  girl  to 
her  heart  for  a  moment.  "And  now  you  must 
go  to  bed  and  to  sleep,  for  to-morrow  will  come 
early.  Yes,  dear .  child  !  I  will  help  you  to  be 
good." 


CHAPTEK  Y. 


A  WOMAN  WITH  A  MISSION  J 

ENNIE  followed  the  servant  up  stairs 
to  Mrs.  Monroe 's  room.  She  expected 
to  find  a  delicate  invalid,  supported  by 
pillows;  but,  much  to  her  surprise,  she  saw  a 
large,  fair  woman,  quite  elaborately  dressed,  and 
looking  in  a  high  state  of  health  and  preserva 
tion.  The  lady  came  forward  with  much  ern- 
pressement  to  meet  Jennie,  took  both  her  hands, 
drew  the  girl  to  her,  and,  looking  intently  at  her, 
said,  in  a  low,  sweet  voice: 

"  So  this  is  rny  little  waiting  maid.  Do  you 
think  you  will  be  happy  here  with  me,  Jennie? 
You  see  I  know  your  name.  My  cousin,  Ross 
Farnham,  has  told  me  about  you,  and  I  have 
had  a  long  letter  from  your  mother.  Mr.  Farn 
ham  is  always  talking  about  the  little  girl  that 

took  such   good  care  of    him  when   his  horse 

(42) 


A   WOMAN   WITH   A   MISSION.  43 

threw  him.  Weren't  you  dreadfully  fright 
ened?" 

Poor  Jennie  had  stood  appalled  during  this 
voluble  harangue,  held  at  arm's  length  by  the 
fair,  large  woman,  who  was  regarding  her  all 
the  time  with  critical  attention.  In  reply  to  her 
question  she  said: 

"  We  did  think  he  was  killed  at  first,"  and  a 
shudder  passed  over  her,  "  but  when  the  doctor 
came,  he  said  he  was  only  stunned.  It  was 
mother  who  took  care  of  him.  I  only  walked 
out  with  him  and  read  to  him." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  to  have  you  here.  I  like 
the  society  of  young  girls.  Do  you  know  you 
are  to  wait  on  me,  bring  up  my  breakfast,  take 
care  of  these  rooms,  and  read  the  papers  aloud, 
and  help  me  with  my  correspondence?  I  am 
nearly  worked  to  death  now.  I  am  Secretary  of 
the  Women's  League,  President  of  the  13.  W. 
A.  S.,  and  Visitor  at  the  Orphans'  Home.  You 
must  read  my  lecture  on  the  Progressive  Spirit 
of  the  Age.  I  shall  make  a  business  woman  of 
you,  Jennie.  You  are  only  a  pretty  doll  now. 
That  is  what  all  women  are  until  they  are  eman 
cipated.  Now  what  can  you  do  ? " 


44  AGAINST   FATE. 

At  first  Jennie  felt  inclined  to  say,  Nothing! 
her  small  stock  of  accomplishments  seemed  so 
poor  by  contrast.  Then  she  remembered  that 
she  had  come  here  to  work  and  earn  money,  and 
she  informed  Mrs.  Monroe  that  she  could  write, 
and  sew  neatly,  and  do  light  branches  of  house 
work.  She  could  read  well,  for  her  father  had 
instructed  her,  and  play  the  melodeon  for  Sun 
day-School  airs,  and  draw  a  little,  and  group 
autumn  leaves  and  ferns  prettily.  That  was  all. 

"  Why  you  are  quite  a  wonder,  Jennie,"  said 
the  lady,  condescendingly.  '<!  will  teach  you 
to  be  self-reliant,  and  make  use  of  the  talents 
given  to  you.  Do  you  think  you  will  i*ke  to 
live  here  ? " 

Jennie  looked  about  the  room  a  moment  be 
fore  answering.  It  was  gorgeous  with  the  glit 
ter  of  cut  glass  and  ornaments.  Mirrors  in 
every  available  place;  brackets  at  every  angle, 
with  lovely  little  statuettes  on  them ;  flowers  in 
bright  bloom;  books  in  handsome  bindings;  a 
large,  lace-draped  bed,  with  flying  cupids  hover 
ing  near,  hung  by  invisible  wires;  and  the  large, 
handsome  mistress  of  it  all  looking;  at  her  ear- 

O 

nestly      She  felt  that  she  had  entered   upon  a 


A  WOMAN   WITH  A   MISSION.  45 

sphere  of  life  that  was  completely  and  enthrall- 
ingly  new;  but  whether  she  should  like  it,  or  not, 
how  could  she  tell? 

"  I  hope  I  shall,"  she  answered  at  last,  having 
recalled  the  gift  of  speech,  "  and  I  will  try  to  do 
exactly  as  you  want  me  to.  Mother  said  you 
would  have  patience  with  me,  for  I  should  be 
new  and  awkward  at  first." 

"You  could  not  be  awkward  if  you  tried," 
said  Mrs.  Monroe  kindly.  She  had  a  morbid 
desire  for  a  prote'gd.  This  beautiful  untrained 
girl  would  bring  additional  tclat  to  her  charita 
ble  career. 

Jennie  felt  a  little  homesick  pang  as  she  spoke 
of  her.  mother,  and  the  dew  that  rises  so  often 
from  the  heart  suffused  her  eyes.  But  Mrs. 
Monroe  drew  her  toward  another  room  and 
opened  the  door  into  a  perfect  little  bower  of  a 
chamber. 

"  This  is  your  room,  Jennie,"  she  said,  "  I  like 
to  have  you  near  me,  in  case  of  a  sudden  illness. 
You  see  it  opens  from  mine.  Mr.  Monroe  is 
away  so  much  that  I  like  to  have  some  one 
within  call." 

"  It  is  just   lovely,"  murmured  Jennie  in  a 


46  AGAINST  FATE. 

pleased  tone,  looking  with  rapture  on  the  bright 
carpet,  a  pattern  with  violets  on  a  drab  ground, 
on  the  large  white  curtains,  the  pretty  toilet 
table  and  the  knick-knacks  upon  it. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it.  You  can  hang  your 
things  in  the  closet;  and,  as  it  is  late,  ai:d  you 
must  be  tired,  good  night;"  and  Mrs.  Monroe 
shut  the  door  between  them  as  she  spoke. 

"  She  never  asked  me  to  sit  down,"  thought 
Jennie;  "I  wonder  if  that  is  city  manners. 
Never  mind !  This  is  more  than  I  ever  dreamed 
of  in  my  life,  before.'' 

She  inspected  everything  with  a  girl 's  careful 
notice,  and  then,  being  really  tired  from  the 
excitement  and  novelty,  undressed,  and  was  soon 
ready  to  sleep  in  the  pretty  white  bed.  But  first 
she  knelt  down  and  asked  God  to  take  care  of 
her.  She  had  never  omitted  this  habit  since  her 
mother  had  first  joined  her  hands  at  her  knee. 
Perhaps  it  was  only  a  habit. ,  Perhaps  she  had 
hard  work  to  feel  that  she  was  a  sinner,  and  fix 
her  mind  upon  God  as  a  frowning  Judge.  1 
think  myself  she  asked  Him  to  take  care  of  her 
in  the  tone  of  a  spoiled  child,  that  did  not  be 
lieve  in  any  danger.  All  the  same,  she  did  not 


A   WOMAN   WITH   A   MISSION.  47 

forget  to  kneel  under  the  strange  roof,  and  with 
a  pleasant  sleepiness  taking  possession  of  her,  to 
add  her  little  prayer  to  the  countless  petitions 
going  up  to  the  unchanged  and  unchangable 
God. 

Will  He  take  care  of  her? 

It  was  not  of  Him  she  thought  as  her  head 
sunk  into  the  soft  pillow,  or  of  His  infinite 
splendor.  Her  poor  little  worldly  heart  was 
filled  with  the  glory  of  one  of  His  creatures. 
One  fond  thought  for  the  dear  mother  at  home, 
and  the  rest  for  Ross  Farnham. 

The  next  morning  Jennie  was  awake  and  up 
early  to  attend  to  her  duties.  Mrs.  Monroe, 
seen  by  daylight,  was  a  disappointment  —  a  phy 
sical  wreck.  She  had  grown  old  in  the  service 
of  society,  and  her  face  was  wrinkled  and  pallid 
in  the  morning  light.  Its  expression,  too,  was 
uncertain  and  discontented.  A  blase  woman  is 
infinitely  more  an  object  of  pity  than  a  blase 
man.  Paint  and  powder  lend  a  temporary  en 
chantment  to  the  features,  but  they  kill  the  soul. 
Jennie 's  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  enamelling  and 
making  up  was  a  novel  experience.  It  was  her 
first  initiation  into  the  impurity  of  fashion,  and 


48 


AGAINST  FATE. 


she  could  not  quite  disguise  her  contempt  for 
this  modern  Jezebel.  She  wrote  a  piquant  de 
scription  home  to  her  mother,  who  answered 
that  her  own  grandmother,  who  was  a  good 
woman,  had  worn  powder  and  patches! 


"  She  had  been  patted  by  Jew  and  Gentile  until  it  seemed 
sometimes  as  if  she  must  drop." — Page  49. 


CHAPTFE  YI. 


"  ONLY    A    SHOP    GIRL. 

VA.  had  been  installed  in  the  cloak-room 
for  several  weeks.  She  had  tried  on 
every  garment  in  the  shape  of  cloak  or 
shawl,  and  had  stood  like  a  wooden  block,  while 
impatient  fingers  pulled  her  this  way  and  that. 
She  had  been  patted  by  Jew  and  Gentile  until  it 
seemed  sometimes  as  if  she  must  drop,  from 
sheer  weariness,  an  inert  mass  at  their  feet.  The 
woman  who  wanted  a  cloak  could  sit  comfortably 
while  she  looked  at  the  fit  of  it  on  Eva's  shapely 
form,  but  she  must  stand,  stand  from  morning  till 
night,  until  her  back  ached,  and  her  limbs  were 
weary,  and  her  feet  were  swollen  to  nearly  twice 
their  natural  size.  She  could  not  eat  her  sup 
per  when  she  went  home  at  night  until  she  had 
plunged  those  poor,  aching  feet  into  a  tub  of  cold 
Mater,  and  bound  a  towel,  dipped  in  the  same 

4  (49) 


JO  AGAINST   FATE. 

cx>oling  fluid  about  her  throbbing  temples.  Mar 
garet  Holmes  forgot  her  own  weariness  and 
trouble  in  helping  Eva.  Her  feet  were  hardened 
by  their  long  years  of  waiting.  So  she  thought 
was  her  heart.  But  there  was  one  tender  spot 
left,  and  Eva  had  reached  it,  happily  for  herself. 

It  was  a  hard  place.  Eva  found  that  out  soon 
enough.  It  is  said  that  the  sick  inmates  of  a 
hospital  loathe  each  other.  They  have  no  sym 
pathy  for  their  duplicate  misery.  So  those  who 
are  compelled  to  work  side  by  side  in  a  store 
all  day,  serving  as  puppets,  poorly  paid  puppets 
at  that,  learn  to  look  with  contempt  on  each 
other.  Eva  found  herself  in  an  atmosphere  of 
open  or  suppressed  discontent.  Her  own  en 
deavors  to  be  pleasant  and  courteous  in  her  inter 
course  with  others  were  met  with  open  criticism 
or  sneering  suspicion;  so  she  determined  to  give 
her  exclusive  attention  to  her  work,  and  at  least 
merit  the  approbation  of  her  employers;  and 
she  soon  learned  to  be  always  smiling  and  agree 
able  to  all  probable  or  possible  customers.  She 
worked  steadily  from  eight  in  the  morning  until 
six  at  night,  with  an  hour  for  lunch.  She  was 
not  expected,  nor,  indeed,  allowed  to  sit  down 


ONLY   A   SHOP   GIRL.  51 

during  the  whole  time,  except  at  the  hour  of 
noon.  When  not  engaged  in  selling  a  cloak,  or 
having  one  fitted  upon  her,  she  had  the  boxes  to 
keep  in  order,  the  counters  and  tables  and  changes 
of  buttons  and  trimmings  to  look  after,  or  the 
head  of  the  department  to  wait  upon.  For  this 
service  she  received  seven  dollars  a  week,  with 
an  ultimate  promise  of  ten.  if  the  season  was 
good,  and  she  was  found  to  be  worth  it.  In  the 
next  department  another  saleswoman,  a  quiet, 
sad-faced  girl  of  eighteen,  received  twelve;  but 
she  belonged  to  a  family  who  had  formerly  been 
in  fashionable  society,  and  could  influence  a  large 
amount  of  trade  among  the  fashionable  people, 
some  of  whom  cut  her  to  the  heart  by  their  con 
descending  patronage;  while  others,  and  they 
were  among  the  really  best,  put  themselves  out 
to  do  her  a  favor,  and  never  let  her  know  it. 
She  could  speak  three  languages,  and  was  an  ac 
complished  musician.  Eva  liked  her  quiet,  lady 
like  manner,  and  the  two  girls  tacitly  agreed 
never  to  make  it  any  harder  for  each  other;  but, 
beyond  the  courtesy  of  business,  they  made  no 
further  acquaintance.  The  fact  was,  the  depen 
dant,  who  had  seen  better  days,  had  nothing  to 


52  AGAINST  FATE. 

look  forward  to,  and  was  dying  of  hopelessness, 
while  Eva  had  everything  in  the  future  —  a  home 
and  independence  for  herself  and  her  widowed 
mother.  Seven  dollars  a  week  to  the  girl  who 
had  never  before  earned  but  two,  was  a  begin 
ning  that  promised  well. 

Mr.  Bates,  the  senior  partner,  had  taken  con 
siderable  notice  of  Eva.  He  had  himself  ex 
plained  her  duties,  and  on  several  occasions  had 
watched  her  making  sales,  and  suggested  certain 
methods.  Eva  listened  respectfully,  but  when 
he  came  near,  and  she  looked  up  into  his  face, 
there  seemed  some  oppression  in  the  air.  There 
was  a  look  of  intense  admiration  in  his  dark, 
half- veiled  eyes;  a  cruel  friendliness  in  the  ten 
der  regard  of  his  look.  It  seemed  as  if  Marga 
ret  Holmes  knew  by  intuition  when  he  was  near 
Eva,  for  then  she  had  always  some  excuse  to 
draw  near,  and  Mr.  Bates  would  compress  his 
handsome  lips,  give  his  stately  shoulders  a  half- 
contemptuous  shrug,  and  saunter  away.  No  girl 
in  that  store  would  have  dared  him  as  Miss 
Holmes  did,  and  none  hated  him  with  as  just 
a  caus~e. 

At  the  Home  Eva  found  a  comfortable  enough 


ONLY, A   SHOP   GIRL.  53 

resting-place.  She  liked  the  management,  but 
she  did  not  enjoy  the  aggregation  of  poverty. 
At  night  the  little  tables  were  filled  with  a  tired 
community  of  toilers;  young  girls,  old  maids, 
widows,  wives  who  had  no  husbands,  and  col 
orless  neutral  women,  who  seemed  never  to  have 
had  a  childhood,  but  were  perpetual  dwellers  in 
the  arid  region  of  middle  age.  Never  a  man 
among  them,  nor  a  little  child.  Heavens!  what 
a  life!  Of  their  heart-burnings  and  histories, 
Eva  knew  nothing.  They  were  nearly  all  dully 
uninteresting  to  her.  Even  to  themselves  life 
was  either  a  battle  or  a  blank !  Some  few  were 
young  girls,  like  Eva,  who  expected  little,  but 
deserved  much.  After  tea  Eva  and  Miss  Holmes 
would,  perhaps,  sit  a  few  moments  in  the  parlors 
and  listen  to  some  music;  but  generally  they  went 
at  once  to  their  little  box  of  a  room  and  sat  there 
all  the  evening,  walled  in,  hearing  gay  voices, 
but  not  joining  in  any  mirth  themselves.  Eva 
longed  to  see  the  inside  of  a  theatre;  but  Mar 
garet  Holmes  had  objected  to  the  one  invitation 
she  had  received  from  the  spruce  young  cashier. 
"  It  is  the  way  all  girls  begin,"  she  had  said. 
"  I  cannot  bear  that  you  should  follow  their 


54  AGAINST  FATE. 

example;"  and  Eva  had  denied  herself  the  oov- 
eted  pleasure,  rather  than  appear  ungrateful. 

But  it  did  seem  at  times  that  life  ought  to 
hold  something  better  and  brighter  th&n  this 
monotonous  work-a-day  existence.  Eva  longed, 
with  downright  homesickness,  for  a  romp  with 
the  boys  and  girls  at  home,  a  breezy  run  to  the 
village  post  office,  a  downright  good  time,  in 
spite  of  hard  work,  and  there  wTas  always  a 
tempter  ready  to  show  her  the  kaleidoscope  of 
pleasure.  From  such  thoughts  as  these  she 
would  raise  her  eyes  to  see  Margaret  Holmes  ob 
serving  her  like  some  grim  spectre  of  fate,  say 
ing  "Thou  shalt  not!  Thou  shalt  not!" 


CHAPTER   VII. 


IN    THE  TOIJJS. 

ES.  MONROE'S  room  was  darkened, 
tliat  lady  being  prostrate  with  a  severe 
headache.  Jennie  was  writing  by  a 
faint  gas  jet,  directing  a  great  pile  of  business 
envelopes,  in  a  fair,  round  hand.  She  has 
changed  somewhat  since  we  saw  her  last.  Her 
too  vivid  country  color  has  toned  down  to  a 
mere  tinting  of  the  oval  cheek.  She  looks  more 
womanly,  is  far  more  beautiful  than  formerly, 
but  it  is  plainly  visible  that  this  mode  of  life 
does  not  suit  her.  She  is  looking  careworn  and 
tired.  Her  work,  to  tell  the  truth,  is  horribly 
distasteful  to  her.  She  hates  the  very  name  of 
reformers  and  reform.  The  makeshifts  of  this 
house  are  pitiable,  and  the  charities  of  its  mis 
tress  wear  a  mantle  to  conceal  it  from  the 

world.     Jennie   had    tried   her   best  to  become 
(55) 


56  AGAINST   FATE. 

interested  in  foundling  babies  and  old  ladies' 
homes,  and  had  really  gone  upon  missionary 
investigations  in  the  spirit  of  a  true  reformer; 
but  she  could  not  find  any  pleasure  or  comfort 
in  the  final  emancipation  of  her  sex  through  the 
arena  of  political  glory.  To  be  the  wife  of  the 
man  she  loved,  and  the  mother  of  his  children, 
seemed  to  her  an  infinitely  higher  station  for 
any  woman,  than  a  position  as  judge  of  a 
supreme  court,  editor  of  a  newspaper,  or  founder 
of  all  the  Good  Samaritan  societies  in  the  world. 
Mrs.  Monroe  called  her  an  idiot,  and  gave  up 
proselyting  her.  Jennie  did  her  work  well. 
There  could  be  no  fault  found  with  that;  but  it 
was  impossible  to  please  the  captious  woman 
whose  life  chords  were  all  dissonant;  so  the 
young  girl  bore  with  her  as  best  she  might  — 
served  her  conscientiously  for  the  pay  that  was 
slow  in  coining,  and  tried  her  best  to  regulate 
the  ill-assorted  household,  while  Mrs.  Monroe 
read,  and  dreamed,  and  theorized  her  life  away. 

As  she  now  sits  and  writes  in  the  half-dark 
ened  room,  some  one  is  looking  at  her  through 
the  half  opened  door.  She  is  writing  busily,  her 
rosy  lips  compressed,  her  lovely  head  set  coquet- 


IN   THE  TOILS.  57 

tishly  on  one  side,  in  the  exact  pose  that  paint 
ers  seek.  Her  rosy  fingers  are  blurred  with  ink, 
only  making  her  more  deliciously,  lovely. 

So  thinks  Ross  Farnham,  as  he  stands  there 
watching  her,  himself  unseen.  There  is  a 
Psyche  on  the  wall-bracket  just  above  her  head, 
but  it  suffers  in  comparison  with  her.  An 
exquisite  ideal  painting  of  summer,  rose-crowned 
and  warm-tinted,  with  lovely  luminous  eyes, 
and  baby  dimples,  looked  something  like  her; 
but  when  did  a  painted  picture  blush  and  smile 
as  this  other  did,  lifting  her  eyes  and  seeing 
him  there? 

"  You  must  not  come."  She  put  one  small 
inky  finger  on  her  pouting  lips  and  went  to 
meet  him.  "  Mrs.  Monroe  has  such  a  headache, 
and  I  have  been  as  still  as  a  mouse  all  the  after 
noon." 

He  imprisoned  both  hands  —  it  had  come  to 
to  this,  then  —  and  looked  at  her  with  greedy 
admiration. 

"And  you  shall  not  sit  here  another  minute, 
such  a  day  as  it  is  for  a  ride;  cool  and  crisp, 
with  a  tang  in  the  air  like  wine.  Run  and  get 


58  AGAINST   FATE. 

your  things  on.  I  want  you  to  go  out  on  the 
Boulevard." 

"  But  Mrs.  Monroe  will  need  me.  I  have  not 
finished  my  work  yet/'  said  Jennie,  looking  up 
into  the  handsome,  dangerous  face,  and  seeing 
as  in  a  vision,  a  long  stretch  of  smooth  road, 
and  two  very  happy  people  bowling  along  it. 

Eoss  Farnham's  face  flushed  angrily.  He  was 
not  accustomed  to  beg  for  favors  of  this  kind. 
He  flung  open  the  door,  and  said : 

"  Maria,  I  want  Jennie  for  an  hour  on  the 
Boulevard,"  coolly  ignoring  possible  denial. 

Mrs.  Monroe  was  indignant  at  her  sudden 
awakening,  and  at  Jennie  for  permitting  it;  but 
she  had  no  power  to  restrain  her  cousin's  wishes, 
so  she  gave  an  ungracious  permission  for  Jennie 
to  get  ready. 

When  Jennie  had  gone,  Mrs.  Monroe  sat  up, 
gathered  her  handsome  neglige  robe  about  her, 
and  looked  angrily  at  her  cousin.  He,  in  return, 
surveyed  her  critically,  and  coolly  remarked : 

"  You  are  looking  exceedingly  well  for  an 
invalid,  Maria." 

''Thank  you!  I  don't  imagine  you  came 
here  solely  to  compliment  my  appearance,  Ross, 


IN   THE   TOILS.  59 

and  even  if  yon  did,  I  wish  you  would  stay 
away.  Yon  will  spoil  that  girl  with  your  atten 
tions,  whether  you  mean  anything  or  nothing. 
I  really  believe  she  is  indulging  in  hopes  ridicu 
lously  above  her  position,  even  now." 

"  I  am  doing  a  simple  act  of  kindness,  as  you 
well  know.  When  I  was  in  her  neighborhood, 
a  miserable,  peevish,  sick  man,  she  did  every 
thing  in  her  power  to  make  time  pass  pleasantly 
for  me." 

"And  you  repaid  the  family  in  coin  such 
people  love  best.  You  helped  her  impecunious 
old  father,  and  you  gave  me  no  peace  until  I 
sent  for  the  daughter.  Ross  Farnham,  let  this 
girl  alone.  I  will  send  her  back  to  her  poverty, 
rather  than  see  her  harmed  by  you." 

For  all  answer,  he  got  up,  crossed  the  room, 
and  stood  before  his  cousin,  as  she  sat  thrown 
back  in  a  lounging  chair.  "  Shall  I  tell  her," 
he  asked  in  a  low  voice,  "  the  story  of  Anna 
Lester?" 

"No!  no!  "cried  his  cousin,  excitedly,  clasp 
ing  her  hands  in  supplication.  "  In  mercy,  no!" 
"  Then  leave  Jennie  to  me,"  he  retorted  sternly. 
'•  I  think,"  he  sneered,  "  that  you  church  goers 


60  AGAINST  FATE. 

consider  some  souls  pre-ordained  to  be  saved, 
and  some  to  be  lost.  You  may  consider  her  one 
of  the  elect,  or " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  Jennie,  radi 
ant  and  blushing,  came  into  the  room.  She 
busied  herself  about  Mrs.  Monroe  for  a  moment, 
bending  down  her  blushing  face  to  whisper  "  I 
will  not  be  long  away,"  and  leaving  a  small, 
pure  kiss  on  that  lady's  artistically  powdered 
cheek. 

Of  what  strange  material  are  women  made. 
At  that  moment,  when  the  young  and  tender 
heart  of  the  girl  went  .out  in  gratitude  to  the 
older  woman  for  being  even  the  remote  cause  of 
her  happiness,  the  older  one  was  coming  very 
near  to  envying  and  hating  her,  because  the  girl 
was  just  entering  upon  a  threshold  which  she 
had  crossed. 

As  Eoss  Farnham  helped  Jennie  into  the  com 
fortable  open  carriage,  he  smiled  to  himself. 
The  little  brown  straw  hat,  with  its  pigeon 
wing,  plucked  and  pressed  by  herself ;  the  short, 
coarse  jacket,  made  of  her  mother's  old  cloak; 
the  cheap,  washed  pin  that  clasped  a  too  bright 
ribbon,  grated  on  the  man's  nice  appreciation  of 


IN  THE  TOILS.  6 1 

dress,  but  they  did  not  appeal  to  his  more  ob 
tuse  moral  sense.  Miss  Badger  would  have 
worn  seal  skin,  and  the  finest  ostrich  plume 
would  have  trailed  over  her  dainty  shoulders, 
and  her  long,  slim  fingers  would  have  been  cased 
in  pearl-colored  kids.  But  who  of  them  all  had 
so  pretty  and  piquant  a  face,  so  delicately  curved 
a  chin,  so  lily  like  a  throat.  And  to  this  girl 
everything  was  new  and  fresh. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 


"This  is  not  a  fit  match,"  quoth  Robin  Hood, 
"That  you  do  seem  to  make  her." 
"  Oh,  loving  heart  trust  on." 


ERE  'S  a  letter  for  yon,  Mrs.  Armstrong. 
From  Jennie,  I  think,"  said  Reuben 
Harlow,  walking  in  upon  the  old 
couple  one  evening  some  weeks  after  Jennie  had 
gone.  "I  just  stepped  into  Burt's  a  moment, 
and  he  asked  me  to  bring  it  up." 

"  Thank  you,  Reuben  ;  sit  by  while  wre  read 
it,"  and  the  proud  mother  adjusted  her  glasses 
carefully  and  read  the  four  pages  of  closely  writ 
ten  paper  with  the  most  careful  attention,  before 
she  ventured  upon  any  part  of  it  aloud.  It  was 
a  wonderful  letter  —  bright,  cheery,  full  of  good 
news,  and  folded  up  in  it  was  a  crisp  five  dollar 
bill  —  Mrs.  Monroe's  first  installment  of  Jennie's 
wages.  It  was  sent  with  a  gleeful  little  message, 
'62) 


REUBEN   HARLOW.  63 

and  the  mother  kissed  it  and  put  it  in  her  bosom 
as  a  precious  treasure. 

"Now  what  does  she  say,  Mary  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Armstrong,  becoming  impatient  as  the  mother 
seemed  inclined  to  read  the  letter  to  herself  once 
more.  "Reuben  would  like  to  know,  too." 

"It's  good  news,  Richard,"  answered  the 
mother,  smiling  to  herself.  "  I  can  hardly 
believe  it  yet,  it  is  such  good  news.  Did  n't  I 
tell  you  our  little  girl  would  have  good  luck  ? 
She  is  to  be  Ross  Farnham's  wife !" 

"Ross  Farnham's  wife!"  Mr.  Armstrong 
looked  almost  as  happy  as  the  mother.  "  Well, 
that  is  news  !  No  more  poverty  and  hardship 
for  her  then  !  I  can  hardly  believe  it.  Cheer 
up,  Reuben  !  there  are  plenty  of  girls  who  will 
be  glad  to  welcome  your  attentions.  Do  n't 
look  so  glum,  man  !" 

"  Does  she  say  he  is  to  marry  her  ?"  asked 
Reuben,  looking  hard  at  Mrs.  Armstrong. 

"  Why,  its  the  same  thing,"  answered  the 
mother,  finding  the  place  in  the  letter.  Here 
she  says,  "  Ross  offered  me  a  splendid  fur  cloak, 
mother,  but  I  thought  you  would  not  want  me 
to  accept  anything  of  that  sort  before  we  were 


64  AGAINST   FATE. 

married."  And,  again  :  "  Ross  has  selected  a 
diamond  ring.  He  says  it  is  worth  many  thou 
sands  of  dollars.  Only  think  !  that  for  your 
little  Jennie.  He  has  just  brought  me  such  a 
lovely  bouquet.  Oh,  clear  mother,  I  am  too 
happy  !  When  Mrs.  Monroe  lectures  me  I  do 
not  cry  as  I  used  to,  but  just  smile  to  think 
how  different  it  will  all  be  when  I  am  Ross* 
wife.  I  have  promised  him  not  to  say  a  word 
about  it  yet  to  anybody  in  the  world  ;  but,  of 
course,  he  did  not  think  I  would  keep  it  from 
you  or  father." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Reuben,"  said  Mrs. 
Armstrong  ;  "but  you  see  it  was  not  to  happen. 
I  won't  say  that  you  might  not  have  made  her 
a  better  husband  than  Mr.  Farnham,  but  he 
took  her  fancy  last  summer,  and  it  seems  he 
has  chosen  her  above  all  the  girls  he  knows.  I 
never  was  one  to  think  money  makes  people 
wicked.  I  believe  the  poor  have  more  tempta 
tions  to  overcome  than  the  rich.  I  think  Jennie 
will  not  be  spoiled  by  prosperity." 

"  She  won't  belong  to  us  any  more,  Mary," 
said  the  father,  with  some  latent  regret  in  his 
tones.  "  So  all  this  time  we  've  been  worrying 


REUBEN   HARLOW.  65 

about  her,  she  has  had  her  bread  cut'  and 
buttered  on  both  sides.  Well !  she 's  a  good 
girl  ;  thanks  to  you,  Mary,  and  though  we  are 
poor,  Ave  've  never  done  anything  disgraceful, 
and  I  guess  her  blood  is  bluer  than  Ross  Farn- 
hain's." 

"  Oh,  Richard  !  It  is  such  a  comfort  to  me 
to  feel  that  Jennie  will  be  taken  care  of,  no 
matter  what  happens  to  us.  It  has  been  such 
a  terror  to  my  mind  that  she  might  have  to 
battle  alone  with  the  world." 

"  I  thought  you  were  a  Christian,  Mrs.  Arm 
strong,"  said  Reuben  Harlow,  wearily.  "  Of 
what  use  are  faith  and  prayer,  if  the  Bible 
promises  are  false  ?" 

"  When  Jennie  was  born,  Reuben,  I  commit 
ted  her  to  the  care  of  God,  but  I  never  stopped 
working  for  her  myself.  'No  human  soul  is 
ever  safe  from  temptation.  It  needs  watching 
and  praying  for  all  the  time." 

"  Its  my  opinion  Jennie  needs  your  prayers 
more  than  ever  now,"  continued  Reuben.  "You 
know  I  never  believed  in  her  going  to  the  city.. 
It  is  no  place  for  young  and  handsome  girls,. 
who  are  poor  and  unprotected.  I  shall  be  glad 
5 


66  AGAINST  FATE. 

to  hear  of  her  good  fortune  when  I  know  it  to 
be  such.  She  is  a  thousand  times  too  good  for 
Eoss  Farnham."  He  took  his  hat  as  he  spoke, 
and  with  an  abrupt  good-night  left  the  farm 
house. 

"Reuben  seems  a  good  deal  cut  up  about 
Jennie,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong,  taking  up  his 
daughter's  letter,  and  preparing  to  read  it  care 
fully.  "It  is  strange  how  things  turn  out. 
Who  would  have  thought  when  that  awkward 
bay  ran  oif  and  threw  Ross  Farnham  at  our 
gate,  that  it  would  ever  take  such  a  turn  as 
this." 

The  father  read  the  letter  and  went  to  bed, 
but  the  mother  sat  up  till  far  into  the  night, 
marking  out  a  path  of  roses  for  her  child. 

Reuben  Harlow  went  home  and  as  usual 
found  his  mother  sitting  up  for  him.  He  went 
and  sat  down  by  her  and  said,  abruptly: 

"  I'm  going  up  to  Chicago  to-morrow,  mother, 
to  find  out  the  truth  about  Jennie  Armstrong; 

o 

She  has  written  home  that  she  expects  to  be 
married  to  Ross  Farnham.  I  took  the  letter  up 
there  myself  to-night.  I  meant  to  tell  them 
how  tongues  were  wagging  here  about  her, 


REUBEN   HARLOW.  67 

but  I  had  n't  the  heart  to.  I  'm  going  myself 
-to  find  out  the  truth." 

"  And  when  you  have  found  it  out,  Reuben, 
what  good  will  it  do  ?  Is  she  the  only  woman 
in  the  world,  that  you  must  spend  your  time 
running  after  her  ?  What  good  will  it  do  you  ? 
She  went  off  and  never  said  a  good-bye  to  you, 
and  she  won't  know  you  in  the  city.  It 's  her 
nature.  She's  fickle  minded  and  ungrateful,  is 
Jennie  Armstrong,  and  you  know  it,  Ruby." 

"  I  do  n't  care  if  she  is,  mother.  She  is  the 
one  woman  in  the  world  for  me,  and  I  will  not 
see  her  go  to  destruction  without  lifting  a  finger 
to  save  her.  I  '11  find  out  whether  her  fine  lover 
intends  to  marry  her — curse  him.  And  I'll 
warn  her  of  the  evil  things  said  about  her. 
Poor  child  !  she  has  n't  the  least  idea  what  such 
wickedness  means.  If  her  father  had  a  grain 
of  common  sense,  he  would  have  kept  her  at 
home  and  taken  care  of  her." 

"  What  did  she  go  to  the  city  for  ?"  asked  his 
mother,  angrily.  "  There 's  enough  to  do  at 
home.  But,  no ;  I  s'pose  the  girl  must  have 
fine  dresses,  and  ribbons,  and  laces,  like  the  rest 
of  them.  Reputation  goes  for  nothing.  I  've 


68  AGAINST  FATE. 

seen  her  droning  about  with  that  Farnham, 
walking,  and  riding,  and  picking  flowers,  while 
her  mother  cooked,  and  washed,  and  ironed  at 
home.  It  shows  a  bad  heart  to  my  thinking." 

"  It  was  because  of  her  inherited  delicacy  of 
constitution,  and  the  way  her  mother  brought 
her  up.  She  could  never  stand  drudging.  Why, 
her  hands  are  like  a  lady's,"  said  this  valiant 
defender  of  the  absent  girl. 

"Inherited  fiddlesticks  !"  retorted  his  mother. 
She  was  a  good  woman,  but  had  outlived  the 
romance  of  youth.  "A.nd  you  want  to  marry  this 
baby-handed  girl  and  bring  her  here  over  me. 
Reuben  Harlow,  you  are  an  ungrateful  son." 

"  No,  I  'm  not,  mother,"  answered  the  yoang 
man,  sorrowfully.  "  You  would  have  no  harder 
work  to  do,  if  I  married  Jennie.  Oh,  God  ! 
how  I  wish  I  could.  I  've  loved  her  since  she 
was  that  high,"  measuring  the  height  with  his 
hand.  "  Since  she  first  said,  '  I  '11  be  your  little 
wife,  Ruby;'  and  now,  and  now,  mother,  I  tell 
you  I  must  go  and  find  out  what  she  means  to 
do,  or  I  shall  go  mad.  This  fellow  Farnham  is 
following  her  up  and  giving  her  presents,  and 
taking  her  out  to  ride.  Now  I  am  going  to 


REUBEN   HARLOW.  69 

find  out  if  he  intends  to  marry  her.  If  he 
does,  it 's  all  right,  I  '11  come  back  and  never 
speak  her  name  again.  But  if  he  —  if  he  dares 
to  make  her  a  thing  so  vile"-  — he  started  up 
digging  his  nails  into  the  palms  of  his  hands  — 
"  why,  there  '11  be  a  short  reckoning  between  us 
-that's  all  !" 

Mrs.  Harlow  was  frightened  by  this  depth  of 
passion.  It  seemed  to  her  that  his  pale  student 
father  stood  there  instead  of  Reuben,  the  boy 
she  had  reared  alone.  She  felt  sorry  for  the 
love  that  was  wasted,  and  indignant  at  the  girl 
who  had  thrown  him  over  for  another.  True, 
Jennie  had  not  been  his  plighted  wife,  save  in 
the  extravagant  play  of  their  childhood,  but  he 
had  always  been  her  sworn  friend,  boy  and  man, 
and  until  the  unlucky  hour  when  a  runaway 
horse  threw  Ross  Farnham  at  her  father's  gate. 

The  next  morning  Reuben  packed  a  crumpled 
leather  satchel  with  necessary  clothing.  Then 
he  went  to  a  drawer,  took  out  a  small  single  ball 
pistol,  and  without  a  word  cleaned  and  loaded  it. 
He  saw  his  mother  watching  him  anxiously. 
"  For  thieves  !"  he  said  quietly  ;  "  the  city  is 
full  of  them." 


CHAPTEK   IX. 


'  When  shall  we  three  meet  again." 

T  was  Thanksgiving  Day  in  the  State 
of  Illinois.  The  offices  and  stores  in 
the  city  were  all  closed,  and  everybody 
that  could,  took  a  holiday.  There  was  a  grand 
exodus  of  all  who  had  country  homes  or  friends 
to  visit,  and  the  odor  of  roast  turkey  was  strong 
in  the  land.  It  was  a  busy  time  for  housewives, 
and  a  fearful  epoch  in  poultry  life;  but  it  is 
pleasant  to  feel  that  one  is  sacrificed  in  a  good 
cause. 

The  home  of  Lucia  Winne's  brother  under 
went  a  grand  transformation  for  the  occasion, 
and  fairly  glowed  under  its  decoration  of  red 
berries  rifled  from  the  mountain  ash,  and  beau 
tifully  varied  autumn  leaves.  They  were  sent 
from  the  old  homestead  at  Newton,  accompanied 
by  a  generous  supply  of  apples  and  the  grand 
(70) 


THANKSGIVING  DAY.  7 1 

sultan  of  the  turkey  dominion.  Said  turkey 
was  now  smoking  hot  in  the  oven,  crisp  and 
brown,  and  pervading  the  atmosphere  with  its 
delicious  odors. 

All  the  little  sticky  children  in  the  household 
had  been  picked  up,  washed  and  dried,  set  in  a 
row  and  counted,  and  told  to  be  good  till  Aunt 
Lucia  came.  They  piled  themselves  up  in  the 
front  windows,  after  awhile,  and  flattened  their 
noses  against  the  window-panes.  Just  as  it 
was  growing  dark  they  all  cried  out  in  chorus, 
"There's  three  Aunt  Lucias  corned!"  The 
three  proved  to  be  Lucia,  Eva,  and  Jennie,  who 
were  invited  to  spend  the  evening  and  night  in 
Mr.  Winne's  family. 

There  was  so  much  noise  after  this  that  poor, 
peevish  little  Mrs.  Winne  would  have  gone  dis 
tracted,  only  she  was  accustomed  to  earthquakes 
of  sound.  It  was  the  first  unrestrained  inter 
course  the  three  girls  had  enjoyed  since  they 
came  to  the  city,  and  they  were  determined  to 
make  the  most  of  it.  They  talked  and  laughed 
a  great  deal,  and  kissed  all  the  babies,  and  gave 
them  candy,  making  them  stickier  than  ever. 
As  soon  as  Mr.  Winne  came  in  —  he  had  been 


72  AGAINST   FATE. 

cracking  nuts  in  some,  remote  corner  —  they  all 
went  out  to  the  comfortable  dining- room  and 
sat  down,  without  ceremony,  to  a  real  home 
dinner. 

"  Oh!  "  cried  Jennie,  merrily,  "what  a  beau 
tiful  turkey!" 

"And  what  lovely  cranberry  jelly,"  responded 
Eva. 

"And  what  delicious  celery,"  said  Lucia,  with 
her  usual  propriety. 

"And  what  silly  geese!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Winne,  flourishing  his  carving-knife  as  if  it  had 
been  a  baton. 

"  The  cackling  of  geese  saved  Rome,"  an- 
-  swered  Lucia,  sententiously. 

"  Well,  it  won  't  save  Turkey,"  retorted  the 
master  of  the  house,  and  in  merry  mood  they 
attacked  the  feast  set  before  them.  Even  Mrs. 
Winne  caught  the  spirit  of  jollity,  and  forgot  to 
administer  reproof  or  to  grumble. 

"Who  do  you  think  I  saw  yesterday? "  asked 
Eva,  when  they  were  finishing  the  dessert. 
She  looked  at  Jennie  as  she  spoke. 

"Any  one  we  all  know?"  answered  Jennie, 
blushing  slightly. 


THANKSGIVING   DAY.  73 

"  Yes.    It  was  Reilben  Harlow:  and  he  looked 
/ 

as  if  he  had  been  ill.  He  was  stalking  along 
State  street  reading  the  signs.  I  ran  after  him 
half  a  block,  but  he  walked  so  fast  I  lost  sight 
of  him.  Now  wThat  do  you  suppose  brought 
him  to  Chicago?" 

"  Why,  you  know  he  often  comes  here  on^ 
business,"  said  Jennie  indifferently,  but  feeling, 
somehow,  as  if  she  were  to  blame. 

"  I  saw  him  myself,"  said  Mr.  Winne,  "  and 
asked  him  to  come  up  here  to-day,  but  he  hardly 
seemed  to  hear  me;  and,  by  the  way,  Jennie,  lie 
asked  me  several  questions  about  you.  1  mean  't 
to  tell  you.  I  wonder  what  has  changed  Reuben 
so  much.  He  used  to  be  as  lively  as  any  of  us, 
and  was  always  a  favorite  at  school.  He  is  as 

o-l um  and   morose  now,  as  if  lie  had  committed 

• 

some  awful  crime.     I  wonder  if  he  is  in  love?" 
He  looked  at  Jennie  as  he  spoke,  in  an  ear 
nest,  almost  indignant  manner. 

"Because,"  continued  Mr.  Winne,  " he  isn't 
the  sort  of  man  to  be  trifled  with.  He  has  good 
material  in  him,  but  I  imagine  he  would  rather 
kill  the  woman  he  loved,  than  give  her  up  to 
another." 


74  AGAINST    FATE. 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Jennie,  in  terror,  "  how  dread 
fully  you  talk  of  killing!  If  that  is  the  kind  of 
man  Keuben  Harlow  is,  what  girl  would  ever 
love  him  ? " 

"I  do  not  know,  do  you?"  answered  Mr. 
Winne  quietly.  "  By  the  way,  Jennie,  I  saw 
you  riding  out  the  other  day,  in  state  and  style, 
with  Ross  Farnham.  Do  you  often  do  that?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jennie,  blushing  very  red,  "  1  — 
I  —  go  sometimes.  He  is  Mrs.  Monroe's  cousin, 
and  he  was  at  our  house  a  month,  last  summer, 
and  —  and  —  She  wanted  to  add  "  I  am  to  be 
his  wedded  wife;"  but  she  could  not.  The 
words  died  on  her  tongue. 

"Isn't  he  handsome?"  cried  Eva,  impul 
sively.  She  had  often  seen  him  with  Jennie. 
They  had  -been  in  the  store  together  to  see  her. 
That  he  should  marry  her,  if  he  wanted  to, 
seemed  to  her  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  "  I  just  think  he  is  splendid." 

"  Other  girls  have  thought  so,  to  their  cost," 
replied  Mr.  Winne.  "He's  a  splendid  scamp; 
that 's  what  he  is,  and  if  I  were  in  your  place, 
Jennie,  I  would  make  him  keep  his  distance. 
Ross  Farnham  has  ruined  many  a  girl's  reputa- 


THANKSGIVING  DAY.  75 

tation  and  broken  her  heart.  If  you  were  my 
sister,  and  he  presumed  to  offer  you  any  atten 
tion,  I  would  horsewhip  him." 

Lucia,  whose  exceedingly  prim  and  proper 
deportment  had  never  challenged  any  man's 
attention,  pursed  her  lips  and  looked  disapproval 
at  Jennie;  but  Eva  felt  that  it  was  almost  un 
kind  to  introduce  the  subject  at  all,  and  she 
asked,  deprecatingly : 

"  Is  he  really  a  bad  man? " 

"Yes!  he  is  known  about  town  as  a  fast  man. 
Of  course,  young  ladies  in  his  own  set  may 
aspire  to  his  hand  in  marriage,  ^and  accept  his 
attentions  on  that  basis.  He  is  handsome,  fas 
cinating,  and  wholly  unscrupulous,  with  plenty 
of  money,  and  all  the  arts  and  blandishments  of 
a  long  experience  in  evil.  I  tell  you,  Jennie, 
you  are  in  deadly  peril,  and  I  wonder  that  you 
do  not  see  it,  or  that  Mrs.  Monroe  allows  it." 

"  He  is  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Monroe's,"  answered 
Jennie,  who  had  hard  work  to  keep  the  tears 
back,  "  and  he  has  been  very  kind,  and  always 
very  respectful  to  me." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  in  love;  if  so,  why  shouldn't 
he  marry  Jennie?"  suggested  Mrs.  Winne. 


76  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  She  is  quite  his  equal,  by  birth  and  education, 
and  he  has  enough  money  for  both.  There  are 
rich  men  in  this  city  who  have  married  poor 
girls  and  given  them  splendid  positions." 

"  It  is  not  the  way  of  his  world,  I  suppose," 
said  Lucia,  who  was  eating  philopoenas  and 
breaking  wish  -  bones  with  her  nephews  and 
neices.  "  I  know  one  thing,"  she  continued, 
significantly ;  "  I  would  never  accept  attentions 
from  such  a  man  until  he  had  signified  his  inten 
tions  to  my  friends." 

"A  Declaration  of.  Independence,"  whispered 
Eva  merrily  into  Jennie's  ear;  but  she,  poor 
child,  was  distressed  beyond  measure  by  all  their 
insinuations.  If  this  was  to  be  the  end  of  her 
holiday,  she  wished  she  had  not  come. 

"  They  will  talk  differently  to  me  when  I  am 
Ross  Farnham's  wife,"  she  thought.  "  How  I 
wish  I  could  let  them  know  of  his  dear  love  and 
care;  but  I  have  promised  not  to  speak  of  it 
until  he  gives  me  permission."  Aloud  she  said : 
"  I  am  old  enough  now,  Mr.  Winne,  to  know 
right  from  wrong.  Mr.  Farnham  has  never 
given  me  reason  to  think  his  attentions  any 
thing  but  honorable.  You  know  he  associates 


THANKSGIVING  DAY.  77 

with  the  most  particular  ladies  in  the  city,  and 
is  always  welcome  at  their  homes,  or  to  ride 
or  walk  with  them.  Mrs.  Monroe  thinks  a 
great  deal  of  him." 

"  And  Mr.  Monroe,"  said  Mr.  Winne,  "  for  I 
am  told  there  is  such  a  person." 

"He  is  home  so  little  I  do  not  know.  .1 
think  lie  does  not  like  any  of  his  wife's  friends 
very  much." 

';  Poor  man!  "  said  Mr.  Winne,  "  I  suppose  he 
is  of  the  least  possible  account  is  his  own  house 
hold." 

"  Indeed  you  are  mistaken.  He  turns  things 
over  once  in  a  while  all  through  the  house;  but 
he  is  rather  quiet  and  patient  most  of  the  time. 
Mrs.  Monroe  says  he  is  a  psychological  some 
thing  or  other,  and  she  is  writing  him  out  for  a 
scientific  paper." 

"  Interesting  subject,"  said  Lucia,  laughing. 
"The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man.  Oh! 
dear,  I  'd  rather  try  cloaks  on  for  a  living  than 
be  factotum  to  such  a  woman.  But  you  needn't 
learn  any  of  her  ideas,  Jennie." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to,"  laughed  Jennie,  thank 
ful  the  conversation  had  taken  a  new  turn.  "  I 


78  AGAINST   FATE. 

am  too  narrow  and  conservative,  and  behind  the 
age.  She  says  I  am  joined  to  my  idols  of  ignor 
ance  and  prejudice.  I  expect  every  day  to  be 
dismissed.  Oh!  what  a  lovely  world  this  would 
be  if  we  all  of  us  had  money  enough.  I  would 
never  want  to  live  in  any  other." 

."And  how  tired  you  would  get,"  said  Eva. 
"  Let  rue  tell  you  my  experience.  I  have  an 
opportunity  to  see  the  wealthiest  and  most  ele 
gant  people  in  the  city  off  guard,  and  oh!  how 
miserable  and  discontented  they  are  when  you 
find  them  out." 

"  Tell  us  about  them,  Eva,"  said  Jennie,  nest 
ling  affectionately  near  her.  She  had  always 
been  a  little  afraid  of  Lucia,  who  was  one  of 
those  perfectly  self-contained  young  ladies,  who 
look  with  tacit  disapproval  upon  thoughtless, 
impulsive  girls  of  their  own  age,  or  near  it;  but 
she  loved  bright,  pleasant  Eva,  with  her  caress 
ing  ways. 

"  Excuse  me,  girls,"  said  Mr.  Winne,  "  I  am 
going  to  smoke  a  pipe  of  peace  in  the  dining- 
room;  so  you  can  gossip  to  your  heart's  con 
tent." 


CHAPTEK  X. 


ROMANCE  AND  REALITY. 

OU  must  not  laugh  at  me,"  began  Eva, 
"if  I  moralize  a  little  sometimes,  or 
even  become  tragic;  but  you  know  I 
have  a  chance  to  see  the  world  from  a  very 
different  point  of  view  from  either  of  you,  and 
I  do  not  like  it.  I  am  sick  of  dress,  tired  to 
death  of  fashion,  and  quite  ready  to  go  back  to 
Newton  and  be  storekeeper  and  postmistress  at 
two  dollars  a  week;  for  that  is  all  I  can  contrive 
to  save  here.  All  the  rest  goes  for  board  and 
transient  expenses.  Besides,  a  shop-girl  here 
is  nothing  more  than  a  lay  figure  —  a  sort  of 
talking  and  walking  machine,  while  there  it  is 
rather  a  credit  to  fill  the  position." 

"  But  there  are  some  very  nice  young  ladies 
in  your  store,"  said  Lucia.     "  The  principal  of 
our  school  has  a  sister  there." 
(79) 


80  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  I  know  that  they  have  secured  positions 
and  homes,  and  do  not  seem  to  mind  the  dis 
advantages  ;  but  a  great  many  of  the  girls 
lose  their  self-respect  and  give  up  trying  to  be 
anybody.  Bah!  how  I  shudder  sometimes  as  I 
try  on  a  cloak  or  suit,  and  feel  the  hands  turn- 
in  me  round  and  round,  and  hear  them  talk  as 
if  I  were  deaf,  criticising  my  figure  and  appear 
ance  to  my  face.  Old  sordid  Jews.  You  ought 
to  see  them,  with  such  unclean  hands,  just 
loaded  with  diamond  rings.  And  they  would 
keep  me  standing  all  day.  But  the  daughters 
are  young  and  pretty,  and  if  they  want  anything 
they  get  it.  I  must  say  I  like  to  have  gentle 
men  customers.  They  always  let  me  select  the 
cloak,  and  then  pay  the  price  without  any  hag 
gling.  One  lady  bought  a  cloak  after  rubbing 
a  threadbare  place  in  its  duplicate  to  see  if  it 
\vere  all  wool.  They  say  she  never  bought  a 
yard  of  calico  without  chewing  a  piece,  to  see 
if  the  colors  were  fast." 

"  I  would  n't  let  her,"  said  Jennie,  indig 
nantly. 

"Then  you  would  be  reported  for  being  im 
pertinent.  Not  a  week  ago,  a  lady  bought  a 


ROMANCE   AND    REALITY.  8 1 

child's  cloak  of  me,  paid  for  it,  and  left  the  de 
partment;  but  in  a  little  while  came  running 
back,  saying  she  had  left  her  pocket-book.  I 
looked  everywhere,  but  it  could  not  be  found. 
She  called  the  manager  up,  and  told  him  she 
was  positive  she  had  left  it  there,  and  insisted 
that  I  should  be  searched.  I  told  her  that  I  had 
not  touched  it,  and  that  I  was  sure  she  had  not 
left  it  there,  or  I  should  have  seen  it.  She  got 
very  angry,  and  threatened  to  have  me  arrested, 
when  something  touched  her  foot,  and  she  found 
the  pocket-book  had  slipped  between  her  $ress 
and  the  lining,  instead  of  into  the  pocket. 
Instead  of  apologizing  to  me  for  her  suspi 
cions,  she  said  she  would  never  purchase  of  ma 
again,  because  I  had  been  impertinent,  and  the 
manager  blamed  me  for  losing  her  custom. 
There  's  justice  and  equity  for  you." 

"  I  think  I  should  have  resigned  my  situa 
tion,"  said  Lucia. 

"No  you  wouldn't.  You  would  do  just  as  I 
did  —  cry,  when  you  got  a  chance,  and  go  right: 
on.  If  you  left,  they  would  n't  give  you  a  ref 
erence,  and  you  might  not  get  another  situation 
during  the  season.  The  girls  do  not  mind  such 


82  AGAINST    FATE. 

things  in  the  least.  Sometimes  a  real  true  lady 
comes  in;  not  one  who  is^  rich  and  patronizing, 
but  a  lady  who  knows  just  what  she  wants,  and 
speaks  to  us  as  if  we  were  human  beings,  with 
souls.  Then  there  are  some  who  try  to  be  very 
sympathetic,  and  they  ask  us.  what  salaries  we 
are  paid,  and  how  we  are  treated,  and  what 
church  or  Sunday-school  we  attend,  and  want  us 
to  join  the  church  sociables.  They  will  be  very 
good  if  we  go  to  their  particular  church;  but  if 
not,  we  have  no  further  notice  from  them. 
~Wlia|  surprises  me  is,  that  everything  is  so  con 
tradictory.  Sometimes  the  richest  ladies  are  the 
meanest  when  making  purchases.  They  will 
select  elegant  goods,  that  just  suit  them,  and 
then  haggle  over  the  price  for  an  hour;  and 
such  wTorn  out,  faded  out  fashionable  women  as 
they  are,  all  paint  and  powder,  and  make  up, 
with  no  more  expression  in  their  faces  than  in 
a  rag  doll's." 

"  How  you  must  dislike  them,"  cried  Jennie. 
"  I  should  hate  to  wait  on  such  people." 

"  We  pity  them,"  answered  Eva.  "  It  is  such 
a  forlorn  fate  to  be  only  a  walking  dry-goods 
advertisement.  And  there  are  other  women  — 


ROMANCE   AND    REALITY.  83 

oh !  girls,  it  is  awful  —  they  come  there  dressed 
like  queens,  in  the  richest  of  laces,  and  velvets, 
and  silks,  and  select  such  elegant  goods,  and 
order  them  charged  to  Mr.  A.  or  Mr.  B.,  and  the 
next  day  little  pale  Mrs.  A.  comes  in  and  buys 
a  modest,  inexpensive  garment,  and  studies  over 
it  a  long  time ;  and  Mrs.  B.  is  an  invalid,  and  we  • 
all  feel  so  sorry  for  her.  Sometimes  I  wish  I 
had  never  learned  there  were  such  wicked  people 
in  the  world." 

"  It  need  make  no  difference  with  us,  only  to 
stimulate  us  to  a  better  life,"  remarked  Lucia. 

"  Somebody  is  responsible,"  answered  Eva. 
"  I  am  sorry,  too,  for  people  who  make  such 
shipwrecks  of  their  lives.  You  would  be,  if  you 
could  hear  the  cruel  things  said  about  them." 

"  Your  pity  is  all  wasted,"  replied  Lucia.  "  I 
should  keep  mine  for  those  who  are  more  deserv 
ing.  When  I  find  a  depraved  child  in  my  school, 
and  there  are  such,  I  can  tell  you,  I  just  expel 
it,  and  so  prevent  its  hurting  twenty  good  chil 
dren.  That  is  the  only  safe  plan."  And  Lucia 
looked  the  moral  school  ma  'am  to  perfection  as 
she  spoke. 

"  Mrs.  Monroe  would  tell  you  there  were  pre- 


84  AGAINST   FATE. 

natal  reasons  why  the  child  should  be  bad," 
said  Jennie.  "  You  ought  to  see  the  objects  she 
picks  up  and  brings  home.  The  house  is  like  a 
hospital  half  the  time." 

"  Why,  I  thought  she  was  an  invalid,"  said 
Lucia. 

"So  she  is.  She  takes  all  kinds  of  horrid 
doses,  and  eats  five  meals  a  day,  weighing  every 
ounce." 

"  Who  pays  for  all  her  philanthrophy,"  asked 
Eva;  "Mr.  Monroe?" 

"  Well,  it  comes  out  of  his  pocket  in  the  end ; 
but  she  attends  meetings  where  they  take  up 
collections  for  such  purposes;  and  there  is  a 
secret  society,  to  which  a  number  of  the  ladies 
belong.  They  meet  in  a  cellar  on  the  West  Side, 
and  form  in  procession,  with  black  cambric  robes 
and  masks.  There  is  a  queen  —  I  believe  Mrs. 
Monroe  is  the  queen  —  and  they  have  some  kind 
of  an  order,  and  take  solemn  oaths  not  to  tell 
anything,  under  penalty  of  death.  The  dues 
of  the  society  are  used  for  charitable  purposes." 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  that  Mrs.  Monroe,"  said 
Eva,  decidedly.  "  Margaret  Holmes  knew  a  poor 
seamstress  who  worked  for  her,  and  she  says  she 


ROMANCE  AND   REALITY.  85 

turned  her  into  the  street  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  for  some  fancied  offense,  and  that  she  once 
had  a  constable  in  the  house  to  arrest  a  poor  ser 
vant  girl  for  stealing  a  pair  of  stockings." 

"  Why  do  you  stay  there,  Jennie,"  asked  Lucia. 
"  You  could  get  a  situation  somewhere  else  for 
the  same  money.'' 

Jennie  blushed  scarlet.  Why  did  she  stay 
there,  sure  enough  ?  Oh !  if  she  could  only  tell 
the  girls  that  Ross  Farnham  loved  her;  that  he 
had  selected  the  ring  of  betrothal;  that  she 
would  some  day  be  his  honored  wife  !  Why 
should  there  be  any  secrecy  in  their  love-mak 
ing'?  He  was  free  to  choose  her  before  the 
whole  world. 

"  You  ought  to  be  with  some  good  Christian 
woman,  who  would  look  upon  you  as  a  child 
with  a  soul  to  save.  Mrs.  Monroe  has  proved 
already  that  she  is  not  a  fit  protection  for  any 
young  girl,"  continued  Lucia,  warmly. 

"She  has  lost  her  interest  in  me  since  she 
finds  that  I  will  never  be  a  graduate  of  her 
school,"  said  Jennie,  laughing.  "  At  any  rate, 
I  earn  my  bread  and  butter,  which  is  more  than 
she  can  do.  I  don't  think  she  takes  very  much 


86  AGAINST   FATE. 

interest  in  my  soul  or  any  other  soul  in  her 
dominion." 

"  You  are  fond  of  the  pomps  and  vanities  of 
this  wicked  world,  and  need  the  most  careful 
restraining  influences,"  answered  Lucia. 

Jennie  flushed  up,  and  the  tears  came  into  her 
eyes.  "  Pomps  and  vanities,"  she  repeated,  bit 
terly.  "  I  have  seen  so  much  of  them.  I  think 
there  never  was  anyone  who  had  such  an  appre 
ciation  of  wealth,  and  luxury,  arid  beautiful 
things,  who  was  s.o  completely  deprived  of  them. 
Why  girls,  when  I  see  beautiful  ladies  stepping 
out  of  elegant  carriages,  dressed  in  rich  and 
expensive  things,  and  everybody  bowing  and 
smiling  to  them,  it  seems  just  like  a  glimpse  of 
Heaven,  and,  like  Heaven,  it  is  denied  to  me." 

The  two  girls  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  sor 
rowful  silence.  They  knew  of  her  past.  They 
had  all  grown  up  together.  They  were  all  edu 
cated,  thoughtful  girls,  but  of  the  three,  Jennie 
was  the  youngest  and  most  flippant.  Lucia  had 
a  great  deal  of  mental  force  and  culture,  but  her 
heart  and  feelings  were  regulated  by  a  rather 
severe  judgment.  She  was  the  first  to  break  the 
transient  silence. 


ROMANCE  AND   REALITY.  8/ 

"  You  are  a  materialist,  Jennie,"  she  said, 
presently.  "  You  see  only  with  the  eyes  of  the 
flesh.  If  you  could  look  deeper,  with  a  more 
spiritual  perception,  you  might  behold  all  the 
deformities  those  silken  robes  cover.  You  might 
see  envy,  hatred,  and  malice  lurking  beneath." 

"  I  dare  say,"  answered  Jennie,  indifferently. 
"Unfortunately,  I  suffer  and'  feel  in  the  flesh! 
I  am  quite  sure  I  should  be  a  better  Christian 
in  silk  and  velvet  than  in  rags,  taking  all  acces 
sories  into  consideration.  I  hate  poverty!  " 

"  Well,  we  none  of  us  love  it,"  said  Lucia; 
"  but  I  can  imagine  a  greater  poverty  than  any 
of  us  have  ever  known.  A  splendid  poverty, 
that  degrades  and  destroys  its  possessor." 

Mr.  Winne,  having  smoked  his  pipe  out,  here 
came  in  with  a  suggestion  of  games,  and  put  an 
end  to  the  conversation.  Before  doing  this,  he 
had  stepped  to  the  front  door,  in  answer  to  a 
summons  from  the  bell.  A  man  stood  on  the 
steps,  and  a  handsome  carriage  had  stopped  at 
the  curbstone. 

"Is  Miss  Armstrong  ready  to  return  home?" 
asked  the  man,  respectfully.  He  was  evidently 
the  driver. 


88  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  Miss  Armstrong  will  remain  here,  with  her 
friends,  to  night,"  answered  Mr.  Winne,  in  a 
clear,  decided  voice.  "Has  Mrs.  Monroe  sent 
for  her?" 

"  Yes — no,  sir.  I  had  orders  to  call  for  her," 
stammered  the  man. 

"Well,  she  will  remain  with  us  to-night," 
was  Mr.  Winne's  reply,  and  the  man  shuffled 
down  the  steps,  said  a  few  words  to  some  one 
in  the  carriage,  and  it  rolled  away  rapidly,  with 
the  driver  in  his  place.  Before  it  went,  how 
ever,  Mr.  Winne  knew  whose  ring  it  was  that 
for  a  moment  flashed  in  the  gas-light,  on  the 
h'rm  white  hand  that  held  the  carriage  door. 

He  did  not  speak  of  it  afterwards,  and  Jennie 
did  not  know  how  near  Eoss  Farnham  had  been 
to  her.  For  that  last  night  she  was  her  old  self 
along  with  the  girls. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

"And  the  jest  seldom  slips 
But  it  strikes  a  tender  chord, 
And  a  smile  was  on  the  lips 
Of  the  wretch  who  sold  his  Lord!" 

THE    CLUB    HOUSE. 

HERE  was  a  young  girl  who  left  her 
country  home  to  find  a  situation  in  the 
city.  She  was  beautiful  and  refined, 
had  been  tenderly  nurtured,  and  her  parents 
were  very  unwilling  to  part  with  her,  but  it 
seemed  necessary.  Weeks  and  months  passed 
away  and  there  carne  no  word  of  her  to  her 
anxious  friends.  Finally,  her  old  father,  dis 
tracted  writh  fear  and  anxiety,  went  to  the  city 
to  look  for  her.  He  searched  a  long  time  and 
found  many  lost  girls  but  not  his  own,  and  as 
all  the  dreadful  temptations  of  life  were  revealed 
to  him,  lie  shuddered  over  the  possible  fate  of 
(89) 


gO  AGAINST   FATE. 

his  darling  child.  But  one  day  it  was  revealed 
to  him  that  she  was  dead  —  that  she  had  died 
the  day  she  reached  the  city  of  a  sudden  attack 
of  heart  disease.  "When  satisfied  of  the  truth 
the  father  shouted  and  clapped  his  hands  for 
joy !  People  thought  he  had  gone  mad  and 
pitied  him,  but  he  smiled  at  their  pity  and  said  : 
"  To  think  that  all  the  time  I  have  been  worry 
ing  and  fretting  about  her,  she  was  safe  with  the 
angels  !  Oh,  how  glad  her  mother  will  be  when 
I  go  home  and  tell  her  !" 

I  think  there  are  many  fathers  who  might 
feel  as  this  one  did.  that  their  children  would 
have  been  better  cared  for,  had  they  died  before 
the  struggle  for  life  began.  Yet,  as  the  grand 
lesson  of  triumph  can  only  be  learned  through 
the  severe  discipline  of  trial,  the  world  is  the 
fittest  school.  They  who  have  fallen  by  the 
wayside  and  perished,  need  no  longer  our  help 
nor  our  tears.  It  is  for  those  who  have  fallen 
and  not  perished,  who  stretch  out  imploring 
hands  for  our  care,  our  sympathy  in  their 
extremity,  who  have  loved  much  and  suffered 
much, —  it  is  for  them  the  Christ  of  to-day 
pleads. 


THE   CLUB   HOUSE.  91 

At  this  very  moment  the  toils  of  sin  are 
closing  in  upon  some  weak  soul.  The  prac 
ticed  hand  of  vice  is  leading  some  weary,  lonely 
victim  into  the  short,  bright  road  to  perdition. 
It  is  not  the  church  nor  the  Sunday-school  that 
is  needed  here  ;  it  is  the  motherly,  Christian 
hand,  irrespective  of  creeds  or  conditions,  the 
gentle,  womanly  voice  to  warn  and  save. 

Ross  Farnham,  for  it  was  he,  rode  away  from 
Mr.  Winne's  door  in  an  exceedingly  ill  humor. 
lie  had  sent  regrets  to  a  brilliant  party  for  the 
purpose  of  escorting  Jennie  home,  and  regaling 
himself  with  an  hour  of  her  pleasant  talk,  and 
he  was  not  accustomed  to  finding  his  wishes 
disregarded  'and  obstructions  in  his  way.  The 
cool  manner  in  which  Mr.  Winne  had  consti 
tuted  himself  Jennie's  guardian,  annoyed  him, 
and  he  was  still  more  vexed  with  himself  for 
not  having  informed  Jennie  in  advance  of  his 
intention  of  calling.  He  felt  sure  that  she 
would  have  gone  with  him  despite  df  any  inter 
ference  of  officious  friends,  for  he  knew  she  was 
influenced  by  the  glamour  of  a  first  love,  and  he 
sighed  to  himself  and  envied  her  the  blissful 
possession. 


92  AGAINST   FATE. 

He  drove  to  a  fashionable  club  house  on 
"Wabash  avenue  and  was  soon  comfortably  seated 
in  the  lounging  room,  a  bottle  of  wine  at  his 
elbow,  his  feet  in  embroidered  slippers,  and 
a  costly  gold-topped  meerschaum  sending  up 
clouds  of  perfumed  smoke  as  he  mused  and 
looked  into  the  glowing  grate  fire. 

Other  gentlemen  lounged  and  smoked,  and 
presently  one  came  in  and  drew  a  chair  close 
to  him. 

"Ah  !  good  evening,  Bates,  glad  to  see  you. 
What  will  you  have,  cogniac  ?  very  good.  Here, 
you  fellow,"  he  called  to  a  man,  apparently 
a  waiter,  who  was  leaning  at  the  corner  of  the 
mantel,  his  arms  folded  tightly  over  his  chest, 
"  Bring  this  gentleman's  order." 

The  man  straightened  himself  up,  looked 
fixedly  in  the  face  of  the  speaker,  flashed  a 
glance  of  strange  intelligence  at  him,  and 
walked  away. 

"  What  a  lout !"  exclaimed  Farnham.  "  He 
must  be  a  new  servant,  and  yet  I  am  positive 
I  have  seen  that  cadaverous  face  before  ?" 

The  "fellow"  soon  returned,  accompanied  by 
a  second  waiter,  who  set  the  refreshments  in 


THE  CLUB  HOUSE.  93 

place  and  retired.  Then  the  first  one  took  up 
his  old  position  by  the  mantel,  where  he  seemed 
to  melt  into  the  shadows.  Neither  of  the  gen 
tlemen  noticed  what  disposition  he  made  of 
himself. 

Mr.  Bates,  the  senior  partner  of  the  firm  of 
Bates  &  Rockwell,  drank  his  cogniac,  and  be 
tween  times  smoked  and  talked  with  Ross 
Farnham.  When  the  two  had  exhausted  finance 
and  politics,  they  turned  to  other  and  pleasanter 
subjects. 

"  I  say,  Farnham,"  remarked  Bates,  pleasant 
ly,  "who  was  the  pretty  little  girl  you  were 
driving  out  on  the  avenue  last  Thursday  ? 
From  the  country,  I  should  say  ?" 

"  That !  let  me  see!  Oh,  she  is  a  young  lady 
my  cousin  employs  as  amanuensis  and  compan 
ion.  She  never  gets  a  breath  of  air,  and  her 
folks  were  kind  to  me  last  summer  when  I 
had  that  infernal  fall,  and  so  I  procured  her  the 
situation.  She  is  pretty,  and  belongs  to  a  good 
family  and  has  been  well  brought  up  ;  but  they 
are  all  poor  as  church  mice." 

"Disinterested  kindness,"  sneered  Mr.  Bates. 
"  It 's  a  bad  beginning  for  the  girl,  but  that 's 


94  AGAINST    FATE. 

her  look  out.  Mean  to  set  her  up  like  a  queen, 
eh?" 

"I  haven't  decided,"  answered  Farnham, 
coolly.  "  It 's  a  sight  of  trouble,  but  I  think 
in  this  case  the  game  is  well  worth  the  candle." 

"I  feel  a  sort  of  interest,"  said  Mr.  Bates, 
leaning  his  head  back,  and  puffing  out  clouds  of 
purple  smoke,  while  his  eyes  closed  tranquilly, 
"because  —  hem,  hem  —  there's  a  girl  in  the 
store  who  came  from  the  same  place.  She  is 
handsome,  too,  as  a  picture,  and  like  all  of  them 
at  first,  high  strung  and  ,  full  of  notions;  but 
she  '11  get  over  it.  They  all  do ;  only  Margaret 
Holmes  —  who  would  have  thought  it  —  has 
turned  a  bit  jealous,  and  shows  fight  if  I  go 
near  the  Bartlett  girl.  I  can  manage,  however. 
I  have  had  more  difficult  tasks  than  this." 

"  There  is  one  means  that  seldom  fails,"  said 
Ross  Farnham,  deliberately,  holding  up  the  long, 
slim-necked  bottle  at  his  elbow,  and  looking 
through  its  half  measure  of  crystal  rosiness. 

"You  mean  wine,"  answered  Bates,  approv 
ingly.  "  Yes,  that  is  certain,  if  you  can  only 
get  them  to  taste  it.  Do  you  remember  that 
pretty  little  Clara;  the  girl  that  floored  half  our 


THE   CLUB   HOUSE.  95 

set  last  winter?  What  a  time  Jack  Wood  had 
getting  that  girl  to  taste  a  glass  of  wine.  She 
carried  him  to  the  verge  of  insanity  with  her 
innocent  flirtations,  and  then  coolly  laughed  at 
him  for  his  folly.  She  never  turned  giddy  in 
the  least,  till  he  finally,  by  strategy  of  some 
sort,  got  her  to  drink  a  glass  of  champagne. 
After  that  she  went  to  destruction  fast  enough. 
She  made  a  desperate  trial  to  reform,  and  there 
were  good  women  to  help  her,  but  it  would  n't 
do.  She  could  not  live  without  excitement  and 
luxury.  Her  friends  would  not  speak  to  her  or 
own  her,  and  she  took  the  shortest  route  to 
perdition." 

"  What  became  of  her,  at  last,"  asked  Farn- 
ham,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 

"  Died !  and  by  her  own  hand.  She  had  an 
interview  with  Jack  Wood  the  day  before  she 
poisoned  herself,  and  they  say  she  just  made  his 
hair  stand  up  with  fright  at  the  solemn  way 
she  talked.  You  know  he  reformed,  and  is  now 
the  exemplary  head  of  a  family." 

"  I  do  n't  see  as  he  was  to  blame,  particularly," 
said  Farnham,  taking  a  long  draught  from  his 
replenished  glass,  "  It  has  always  been  a  man's 


96  AGAINST  FATE. 

privilege  to  ask,  and  a  woman's  to  refuse.  He 
gave  her  all  she  could  ask  —  wealth,  ease,  and 
luxury." 

"  Yes ;  all  but  an  honest  name.  I  suppose 
there  is  something  in  that  beyond  our  sophistry." 

"An  honest  name!  Great  God!  "  Koss  Farn- 
ham  grew  excited,  and  threw  away  his  cigar. 
"  How  many  thousands  of  women  have  dragged 
out  their  lives  in  penury  and  hardship  to  pre 
serve  an  honest  name,  and  what  good  did  it  ever 
do  them  ?  Does  the  world  rise  up,  and,  seeing 
through  their  pitiless  make-shifts,  give  them  of 
its  bounty  ?  Are  they  not  misused,  and  hunted, 
and  maligned  by  the  very  champions  of  virtue  ? 
Their  honest  wages  are  cut  down,  all  avenues  of 
employment  are  overfilled,  the  wolf  is  at  the 
door  —  not  one  wolf,  but  an  hundred  —  and  their 
compensation  is  an  honest  name  !  " 

"  There  is  something  in  that  we  do  not  under 
stand,  Farnham.  But  we  both  know  there  are 
women  who  would  starve  to  death  by  inches,  till 
the  miserable  tortured  body  gave  up  its  last 
claim,  rather  than  surrender  one  iota  of  the  spir 
it's  purity.  It  is  an  instinct  stronger  than  life 
with  them.  Such  women  cannot  be  tempted. 


rsr 


"  I  hace  iititsxed  your  cowardly  h&irt,  he  aaid." — Page  99. 


THE   CLUB   HOUSE.  97 

You  know  how  cruel  the  world  is  to  the  woman 
who  steps  aside  from  the  narrow  path  of  virtue. 
It  does  not  ask  what  her  temptation  may  be.  It 
is  of  small  account  beside  her  disgrace." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  answered  Farn- 
ham,  yawning.  "I  know  this;  they  have  the 
worst  of  it  here;  but  if  there  is  a  hereafter,  and  I 
for  one  believe  there  is,  there  will  be  a  heavy  score 
to  settle  against  us.  I  am  going  to  rny  punish 
ment  with  my  eyes  open,  for  I  never  believed 
that,  of  two  responsible  human  beings,  with 
equal  attributes  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  one  was 
to  have  all  the  privileges  and  the  other  all  the 
penalties.  If  I  go  scot  free  in  this  world,  I  shall 
have  my  turn  in  the  next;  but  if  a  class  of 
human  beings  are  born  into  the  world  pre 
ordained  to  destruction,  I  am  but  the  instru 
ment  of  fate." 

"  Well,  I  should  never  add  hypocrisy  to  my 
other  sins.  I  am  not  a  praying  member  in  a 
church,  and  you  know  what  my  home  life  has 
been.  I  should  never  use  unfair  means  to  in 
duce  any  girl  to  place  herself  under  my  protec 
tion.  There  are  women,  respectably  married,  in 
this  city  to-day,  who  can  testify  to  that.  It  is  a 
7 


98  AGAINST   FATE. 

question  that  involves  an  immense  amount  of 
speculative  thought,  and  no  one  has  ever  reached 
a  satisfactory  solution." 

"  Then  it  is  useless  for  us  to  begin.  Now  here 
is  a  girl,"  Farriham  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  "  who 
is  as  lovely  as  a  Grecian  model.  She  has  educa 
tion,  refinement,  and,  so  far,  good  principles, 
though  no  fixed  character.  She  was  dissatisfied 
with  her  country  home  and  her  farmer  lover,  and 
the  poverty  of  her  surroundings.  She  has  an 
unsatiated  thirst  for  the  beautiful.  She  admires 
all  the  precious  things  wealth  can  bestow.  She 
wants  luxury,  diamonds,  and  cashmere,  velvets 
and  laces,  leisure  instead  of  toil,  and  by  G —  she 
shall  have  them! 

He  had  spoken  in  a  low  tone,  but  the  man 
standing  motionless  among  the  shadows  heard 
every  word.  Taking  something  from  the  breast 
of  his  coat,  he  again  folded  his  arms,  and  stood 
motionless,  as  before. 

"  She  does  not  expect  you  to  marry  her  ? " 
asked  Mr.  Bates.  "  Now,  in  my  case,  there  can 
be  no  delusion  of  that  sort.  With  you  it  is  only 
natural  that  any  girl  you  might  honor  with  your 
attention  should  aspire  to  a  matrimonial  right 
to  your  name." 


THE  CLUB  HOUSE.  99 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  said  Farnham.  "  I 
know  the  world  too  well.  Jennie  Armstrong 
may  look  forward  to  an  ultimatum  of  marriage, 
and  there  will  be  time  enough  to  undeceive  her. 
She  is  madly  in  love  with  me  now." 

"  LIAE  !  "  It  was  not  the  word  that  reverber 
ated  through  the  room,  but  the  shot  that  fol 
lowed  it,  and  brought  Ross  Farnham  to  his  feet, 
with  his  right  arm  hanging  helpless  by  his  side. 
The  man  who  had  stood  by  the  mantel  took  a 
step  forward.  "  I  have  missed  your  cowardly 
heart,"  he  said;  but  that  moment  Ross  Farn 
ham  raised  his  left  hand,  in  which  something 
glittered.  A  second  report  cleft  the  air,  and  the 
man  dropped,  with  a  dull  sound,  on  the  floor. 

A  crowd  instantly  gathered.  Some  one  lifted 
the  limp  form,  and  found  life.  The  man  was 
shot  through  the  lungs,  and  death  must  be 
inevitable ;  yet  he  was  still  breathing. 

There  was  no  paper  nor  memoranda  to  declare 
who  he  was,  or  whence  he  came.  He  was  not  a 
servant,  and  had  never  been  seen  in  the  club- 
rooms  before  that  evening.  He  was  supposed  to 
be  some  gentleman's  attendant,  as  his  style  of 
dress  was  neither  that  of  a  servant  nor  a  gentle- 


IOO  AGAINST  FATE. 

man.  "Who  was  he,  and  what  was  his  object  in 
assaulting  Mr.  Farnham? 

Meanwhile  the  man  lay  prostrate  and  uncon 
scious.  The  pistol  which  he  had  aimed  at  his 
enemy's  heart  was  still  clasped  tightly  in  his 
hand;  his  eyes  were  closed,  his  face  was  pallid, 
and  his  breath  came  in  great  gasps.  In  this 
state  he  was  lifted  to  an  improvised  stretcher 
and  carried  off  to  a  remote  hospital  until  such 
time  as  he  should  die,  or  get  well  enough  to  be 
be  indicted  for  murder. 

If  Ross  Farnham  knew  him  in  that  moment, 
he  made  no  sign.  A  silken  handkerchief  had 
been  bound  tightly  about  his  own  arm.  It  was 
only  a  flesh  wound,  after  all,  and  he  had  denied 
to  everybody  who  asked  him  any  knowledge  of 
the  man,  or  of  his  intentions.  There  were  plenty 
of  people  present  who  could  conceive  of  sufficient 
reason  why  a  man  of  his  reputation  should  be 
in  danger  of  an  attack  upon  his  life,  but  they 
considered  silence  their  best  policy. 

The  next  morning  the  daily  papers  published 
glowing  accounts  of  Mr.  Farnham's  bravery  in 
repulsing  an  assassin,  and  relegated  the  would- 
be  murderer  to  certain  punishment  as  soon  as 


THE  CLUB   HOUSE. 


IOI 


his  wounded  lungs  should  become  sufficiently 
healed.  At  this  knowing  people  smiled,  and  re 
marked  that  "  Law  and  justice  were  two  different 
institutions." 


CHAPTEE  XII. 


MRS.  MONROE  S  HUSBAND. 

E  was  known  to  the  world  as  such,  his 
identity  being  completely  swallowed 
up  in  that  of  his  wife.  How  could  it 
be  otherwise?  He  was  not  president  of  the 
B.  W.  A.  S.,  nor  leader  of  a  secret  society,  that 
had  processions  in  a  cellar,  and  wore  paper 
cambric  robes,  nor  treasurer  of  a  Dorcas  sewing 
club,  that  did  everything  but  sew,  nor  corre 
spondent  of  a  political  reform  organ.  He  had 
never  been  invited  to  deliver  addresses  to  the 
working  women,  nor  solicit  aid  for  the  unfor 
tunate,  or  for  the  reform  of  the  fallen.  He  was 
merely  an  appendage  to  Mrs.  Monroe,  furnishing 
her  with  a  frescoed  roof,  paying  her  bills,  and 
reading  her  name  in  a  newspaper  report  as  the 
agitator  of  some  new  scheme  for  a  hospital  or  a 
prison.  He  had  never  read  her  book  on  co 
operative  housekeeping,  but  he  thought  almost 
U02) 


MRS.  MONROE'S  HUSBAND.  103 

any  housekeeping  might  be  an  improvement  on 
the  home  plan.  He  was  so  accustomed  to  see 
his  parlor  occupied  by  spectacled  women,  carry 
ing  rolls  of  manuscript,  petitions,  and  docu 
ments,  that  when  he  found  it  empty  he  bowed  to 
the  chairs,  from  mere  force  of  habit.  He  loved 
children,  but  it  was  one  of  his  wife's  idiosyn 
crasies  not  to  have  any,  while  so  many  superflu 
ous  children  were  struggling  for  a  place.  She 
had  adopted  one  of  those  superfluous  children 
once,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  and  for  three  months 
of  its  life  the  baby  was  feted  and  feasted.  It 
slept  in  a  rosewood  crib,  kindly  loaned  by  Mrs. 
Judge  Smythe,  was  dressed  in  contributed  laces 
and  finery,  and  its  sleeves  were  tied  up  with  gold 
chains.  Then  a  re-action  set  in.  and  it  was 
bundled  off  to  the  nurse,  who  bribed  the  cook  to 
take  care  of  it  at  night,  and  so  it  caught  its  death 
of  cold.  There  was  a  splendid  funeral,  which  all 
the  friends  attended,  and  a  poor  relation,  who 
had  fallen  into  disfavor,  spitefully  remarked  that 
half  what  that  casket  cost  would  have  kept  her 
in  coals  for  the  winter! 

The  evening  that  Jennie  spent  at  Mr.  Whine's 
Mr.  Monroe  found  himself  alone  with  his  wife, 


104  AGAINST   FATE. 

a  tete-a-tete  she  always  avoided,  and  that  he  sel 
dom  enjoyed.  He  was  a  thin,  slender  man,  with 
a  nervous  mouth,  half  concealed  by  a  chestnut 
moustache.  He  looked  just  the  sort  of  man  to 
be  moulded  by  a  woman.  He  had  not  force  of 
character  enough  to  emphasize  his  own  opinions. 
He  preferred  to  do  right,  and  live  up  to  his  own 
convictions,  but  was  willing  to  sacrifice  princi 
ples  to  peace.  His  wife  had  frequently  told 
him  that  he  ought  to  have  married  a  Dora 
Copperfield  —  a  home  body,  a  pleasant  sort  of 
idiot,  and  how  fervently  he  sometimes  wished 
that  he  had. 

He  was  visiting  in  his  wife's  room,  now, 
where  he  always  felt  like  an  intruder,  although 
he  reposed  nightly,  when  at  home,  beneath  the 
embroidered  quilt,  with  a  wax  Cupid  dangling 
within  an  inch  of  his  nose.  On  this  night  his 
heart  yearned  for  companionship,  and  he  sought 
his  wife,  with  the  forlorn  hope  that  she  might 
care  to  amuse  and  entertain  him.  He  found  her 
reading  a  statistical  looking  paper,  cutting  out 
sentences,  and  marking  annotations  on  the  mar 
gin.  She  was  handsomely  dressed,  and  looked 
queenly  and  imposing. 


MRS.  MONROE'S  HUSBAND.  105 

"Maria,"  he  commenced,  throwing  himself 
into  a  chair  hung  with  rich  embroidery,  "  what 
are  you  reading? " 

''An  article  headed  'What  to  do  with  our 
daughters.'  I  find  some  excellent  things  in  it, 
and  I  mean  to  write  a  paper  on  the  subject  and 
read  it  at  our  next  maternity  meeting." 

"  We  have  n't  any  daughters.  I  did  not  know 
that  you  cared  about  such  matters."  , 

"  Other  people  have  daughters,  Mr.  Monroe," 
answered  his  wife,  loftily. 

"Yes;  and  it  is  about  them  I  would  like  to 
speak.  I  saw  that  kitchen  girl  of  yours  —  what 
is  her  name  —  flaunting  down  street,  when  I 
came  in,  and  I  think  she  needs  a  little  motherly 
care." 

Mrs.  Monroe  laid  down  her  paper.  "  1 11 
turn  her  out  of  the  house  to-morrow.  I  told 
her  I  should  if  she  went  out  another  evening. 
To  think  what  I  rescued  that  girl  from,  and  now 
this  is  her  gratitude." 

"  You  cannot  expect  to  have  all  the  virtues 
for  three  dollars  a  week.  I  do  not  see  how  it 
would  improve  matters,  either,  to  turn  her  out 
on  the  streets.  You  might  easily  interest  your- 


I06  AGAINST   FATE. 

self  enough  in  her  to  know  where  she  is,  and 
how  she  passes  her  time.  I  suppose  philan 
thropy  at  home  is  as  necessary  as  in  charitable 
institutions." 

"  Did  you  come  up  here  on  purpose  to  say 
that,  Mr.  Monroe?"  asked  his  wife,  in  a  hard, 
disagreeable  voice.  In  talking  to  her  husband, 
there  was  none  of  that  effusiveness  that  charac 
terized  her  with  acquaintances.  "Because,  if 
you  take  so  much  interest  in  Sarah,  you  might 
look  after  her  yourself." 

The  man  did  not  resent  the  insult.  Naturally 
affectionate  and  home -loving,  though  warped 
aside  by  adverse  influences,  he  longed,  to-night, 
with  a  homesickness  that  was  pain,  for  the 
company  of  a  congenial  nature. 

"  Will  you  play  Bezique? "  he  asked,  presently, 
as  his  wife  resumed  her  reading. 

She  consented  ungraciously,  and  so  an  hour 
passed,  and  the  clock  struck  nine. 

"  Where  is  Jennie? "  asked  Mr.  Monroe, 
putting  the  cards  in  the  cribbage  box. 

"  She  has  been  spending  the  day  at  Mr. 
"Winne's,  with  some  friends.  I  expect  she  will 
stay  all  night,  unless  Boss  should  call  for  her." 


MRS.  MONROE'S  HUSBAND.  107 

"  Maria,"  said  Mr.  Monroe,  gravely,  bending 
over  the  table  that  separated  him  from  his  wife, 
"Do  you  know  what  you  are  doing?  You  are 
helping  that  girl  to  her  ruin." 

His  wife  threw  down  the  paper  she  had  re 
sumed.  "  I  do  not  understand,"  she  said,  an 
grily,  "I  have  rescued  her  from  poverty  and 
obscurity,  and  given  her  the  means  of  help 
ing  herself  and  her  parents.  If  that  should 
prove  her  ruin  you  cannot  blame  me." 

"At  whose  suggestion  did  you  do  it?  Not 
mine.  You  engaged  that  girl  to  come  here  as  a 
sort  of  factotum,  because  Ross  Farnham  took  a 
fancy  to  her  last  summer.  You  know  what  he 
is;  and  yet  you  throw  her  in  his  way,  and  give 
her  no  warning.  If  she  falls,  the  price  of  her 
dishonor  is  your  lawful  wages." 

"  She  is  not  a  child,"  answered  his  wife,  an 
angry  light  gleaming  in  her  eyes.  "  She  must 
take  her  chances  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  I 
have  advised  and  instructed  her,  and  told  her 
she  might  make  herself  a  name  in  some  intel 
lectual  way.  She  is  well  educated,  and  has  read 
a  great  deal,  and  I  could  forward  her  interests  in 
many  ways;  but  she  has  no  taste  for  such  high 


108  AGAINST   FATE. 

pursuits.  'Now  there  is  my  lecture  on  physical 
culture.  I  have  offered  to  let  her  read  it  at  dif 
ferent  places  —  she  has  really  a  fine  voice  —  but 
she  has.  no  self  reliance.  There  is  nothing  pro 
gressive  about  her.  She  has  been  taught  at  her 
mother's  apron  strings,  and  has  just  one  set  of 
ideas." 

"  It  is  a  pity  she  had  not  staid  there.  Her 
beauty  and  ignorance  are  both  against  her  here. 
You  women  who  are  always  meddling  with  re 
forms  never  use  the  material  at  hand.  How 
many  of  you  interest  yourselves  in  the  souls 
under  your  own  roof  ?  It  is  the  unknown 
heathen  you  labor  to  convert." 

Mr.  Monroe  seldom  denounced  his  wife's  the 
ories  as  bitterly  as  he  did  to-night.  He  had 
married  her  at  a  venture,  and  lost.  That  there 
were  circumstances  in  her  past  life  not  to  her 
credit,  he  did  not  care  to  know.  He  knew  too 
much  as  it  was.  He  was  master  in  his  own 
house  in  only  one  way.  He  paid  the  bills,  and 
the  servants  run  the  domestic  machinery  on  the 
co-operative  plan;  that  is,  they  co-operated  to 
see  that  their  respective .  households  did  not 
want. 


MRS.  MONROE'S  HUSBAND.  IOQ 

As  he  went  out  of  her  room,  preparatory  to 
putting  on  his  overcoat  to  spend  a  social  even 
ing  elsewhere,  his  wife  looked  after  him.  "  How 
I  hate  you !  "  was  the  thought  uppermost  in  her 
mind.  Before  his  footsteps  had  died  away  on 
the  pavement,  she  was  writing  an  article  on  the 
tyranny  of  marriage,  which  other  dissatisfied 
women  should  read  and  applaud. 

She  did  not  care  where  nor  how  he  spent  his 
time,  so  that  he  did  not  interfere  with  her  self 
ishly  lazy  life.  She  felt  no  moral  obligation  to 
make  his  home  happy  and  comfortable,  and  to 
minister  to  his  wants  with  her  own  hands.  Ne 
cessity  had  not  driven  her  to  her  present  pursuits 
for  bread  and  butter.  A  wholesome  course  of 
physical  labor  would  soon  have  cured  her  of  any 
tendency  to  invalidism.  She  had  elected  herself 
as  champion  of  her  sex,  and  yet  it  was  true  that 
she  had  turned  a  young  and  thoughtless  girl  into 
the  streets  at  midnight,  because  Mr.  Monroe,  re 
turning  late  from  a  club  supper,  had  met  her  in 
the  hall,  and  attempted  to  kiss  her!  It  was  a 
very  reprehensible  act,  no  doubt,  in  one  denied 
legitimate  caresses,  but  the  punishment  for  it 
should  have  been  visited  on  him  alone. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

JUDAS  IN  PETTICOATS. 

HE  morning  after  Thanksgiving  day 
Jennie  awoke,  and  found  that  it  was 
very  late.  The  other  two  girls  had 
risen  without  disturbing  Ixer,  their  time  being 
limited  to  certain  hours;  and  when  she  went 
down  to  the  breakfast  room  she  found  Mrs. 
Whine  alone  with  the  children,  lingering  over 
the  toast  and  coffee,  and  looking  very  much  an 
noyed.  When  Jennie  entered,  with  excuses  for 
her  late  appearance.  Mrs.  Winne  handed  her  the 
morning  paper. 

"You  will  find  some  news  there,"  she  said 
coldly.  "  I  think  you  are  interested  in  the  mat 
ter.  Who  do  you  think  the  man  is  that  Ross 
Farnham  shot  last  night  ?  " 

Jennie  heard  but  one  sentence.  "  Ross  Farn 
ham  !  Shot !  Last  night !  "  —  the  room  spun 

round,  and  all  the  world  turned  dark.     The  color 
(110) 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  Ill 

left  her  cheeks  and  lips,  and  she  stood  staring 
blankly  at  the  paper  in  her  hand. 

"  Do  n't  look  so  dreadfully,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Winne,  "  there  is  n't  anybody  killed,  but  there 
might  have  been.  Head  that  paper,  and  see." 

"  Who  was  it  tried  to  kill  Koss,Mrs.  Winne? " 
asked  Jennie,  with  white  lips. 

"Albert  said  it  was  Eeuben  Harlow.  He  felt 
dreadfully  about  it,  Jennie,  and  blamed  you 
pretty  severely;  but  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
help  them  falling  in  love  with  you." 

Jennie  read  the  notice  as  well  as  she  could, 
and  saw  that  no  one  was  killed  —  at  least  that 
Ross  was  not  —  then  she  flung  the  paper  on  the 
table,  and  began  to  cry. 

"  I  wish  Reuben  Harlow  would  mind  his  own 
affairs.  What  business  has  he  to  watch  a  gen 
tleman  like  Mr.  Farnham,  and  call  him  to  ac 
count?  If  he  had  killed  him,  it  would  have 
been  murder!  I  hate  Reuben,  and  he  might 
know  it  by  this  time.  How  dared  he  follow  me 
to  the  city!" 

"  Oh,  Jennie,  do  be  careful !  "  suggested  Mrs. 
Winne,  who,  from  never  having  any  of  her  own, 
rather  enjoyed  sensations  in  other  people's  love 


112  AGAINST   FATE. 

affairs.  "  I  do  n't  believe  Ross  Farnham  has  any 
idea  of  marrying  you,  and  you  ought  not  to 
accept  his  attentions.  I  wish  you  had  never 
gone  to  Mrs.  Monroe's.  If  I  were  you  I  would 
go  home  again." 

"Home!"  Jennie  shut  her  eyes  and  con 
jured  up  a  vision  of  the  old,  unpainted,  tumble 
down  house,  the  dilapidated  farm,  and  the  days 
that  were  all  like  Sundays,  with  the  toil-worn 
pair  who  could  give  her  nothing  but  their  love, 
and  to  whom  life  had  been  one  perpetual  rainy 
day.  No!  She  could  not  go  home! 

Mrs.  Winne  gave  her  some  good  advice  at  part 
ing,  for  which  she  thanked  her,  and  then  set  out 
for  Mrs.  Monroe's.  The  day  was  bright  and 
cold,  the  air  pure  and  invigorating, -but  Jennie 
walked  steadily  along,  her  eyes  bent  on  the 
ground.  She  was  taking  a  practical  look  at  life, 
and  trying  to  expunge  all  the  blue  and  rose  color 
from  its  neutral  gray.  As  she  walked  along 
thus  she  looked  prettier  and  more  bewitching 
than  ever.  Not  the  most  studied  coquetry  could 
have  made  her  face  so  attractive  as  the  pretty  air 
of  perplexity  that  drew  her  cherry  lips  into  a 
delicious  Cupid's  bow,  and  arched  her  dark  and 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  115 

dainty  eyebrows  into  a  sinuous  line,  and  sent  the 
long,  quivering  lashes  downward,  like  pencil- 
lings,  on  the  clear  red  of  her  cheeks.  A  coarse, 
bright  shawl  was  wrapped  about  her  slendei 
form,  one  end  falling  over  her  shoulder.  Her 
plain  straw  hat  had  a  red  wing  jauntily  set  in  the 
velvet  band,  and,  with  all  the  lights  and  colors 
of  her  dress,  and  of  herself,  she  resembled  some 
rare  tropical  bird.  So  thought  Ross  Farnham, 
as  he  looked  after  her,  his  heart  full  of  admira 
tion  and— would  you  call  it  love?  She  had 
passed  him  so  close  that  her  fluttering  silken 
hair  had  brushed  his  arm  — the  arm  carried  in  a 
sling — but  she  either  did  not  or  would  not  see 
him.  He  turned  and  looked  after  her  for  a  mo 
ment  with  a  surprised  air,  and  then,  with  a 
rapid  motion  or  two,  was  at  her  side. 

"Miss  Armstrong,"  lifting  his  hat,  as  she 
turned  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  "  are  you  so> 
pre-occupied  that  you  cannot  see  your  friends? " 

Jennie  looked  at  him  without  any  of  her  usual1 
pretty  embarrassment;  but  the  sight  of  his 
wounded  arm  touched  her  visibly.  Her  heart 
beat  so  violently  she  could  with  difficulty  speak. 

"I  am  in  a  great  hurry,"  she  said.     "It  is 


114  AGAINST    FATE. 

late,  and  Mrs.  Monroe  will  need  me;  besides, 
Mr.  Farnham,  I  have  seen  the  paper,  and  —  and 
my  friends  think "then,  suddenly  chang 
ing  to  an  anxious,  natural  tone,  "  Was  it  Reuben 
Harlow  who  shot  you,  Mr.  Farnham? " 

"  I  presume  it  was,"  he  replied,  indifferently. 
"  I  did  not  notice  the  fellow  particularly." 

"Was  he  —  was  he  killed?"  in  a  horror- 
stricken  voice. 

"Killed!  no!  no!  not  half  so  bad  as  that.  I 
will  see  that  he  wants  nothing,  since  you  are  so 
interested  in  him;  and  I  assure  you  his  hurt  is 
not  more  serious  than  mine.  Only  no  one  cares 
in  the  least  that  I  am  hurt,"  and  he  sighed 
despondently. 

"  Your  friends  will  all  care,  Mr.  Farnham,  but 
I  have  known  Reuben  Harlow  since  I  was  a 
little  child,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  think  he  should 
lose  his  life  for  me;  I  am  not  worth  it." 

Ross  Farnham  thought  she  was  worth  that, 
and  a  great  deal  more,  as  he  looked  into  her  shy, 
brown  eyes,  filled  with  tears  of  the  deepest  con 
trition.  A  sudden  impulse  came  over  him  to 
release  himself  from  the  bonds  of  his  set,  and  own 
her  before  the  world  as  his  chosen  wife.  But 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  11$ 

the  demon  of  pride  held  him  back,  and  a  more 
cruel  demon  whispered  its  evil  counsel.  He  held 
out  his  hand  to  Jennie,  and  whispered  one 
charmed  word,  "  Darling!  " 

How  often,  in  the  last  few  weeks,  she  had 
blushed  a  celestial  red  at  this  tender  word.  How 
it  had  thrilled  her  poor  little  deluded  heart  with 
a  passionate  delight;  but  now  she  shook  her 
head  sadly.  She  must  not  let  him  say  it  any 
more. 

"  Mr.  Farnham,"  she  began  in  a  dignified 
voice,  "my  friends  blame  me  very  much  for 
what  has  happened,  and  think  I  have  not  been 
particular  enough  in  remembering  my  position. 
I  do  not  care  in  the  least  for  Reuben  Harlow, 
or  —  or  any  one  else  in  that  way;  and  I  know  I 
ought  not  to  accept  attentions  from  any  gentle 
man,  unless—  "  she  stopped  and  looked  at 
him  pitifully,  "  unless  as  his  promised  wife. 
I  am  a  poor  girl,  and  must  make  my  own  way 
in  the  world,  and  not  give  anyone  the  chance  to 
say  cruel  or  unkind  things  about  me." 

"  Who  has  dared  to  say  unkind  things  ?  Let 
me  know  who  dares  even  to  hint  at  any  such 
calumny,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  fierce  whisper, 


Il6  AGAINST   FATE. 

that   made   Jennie's    foolish   heart    thrill  with 

j°y- 

"  They  blame  me  for  what  happened  last  night; 
but  I  did  not  even  know,  until  then,  that  Reu 
ben  Harlow  was  in  the  city.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Farn- 
ham,  how  did  it  happen.  What  was  the  quarrel 
about?" 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you  one  word  if  you  talk  in 
that  way.  Call  me  Ross;  not  that  cold  Mr. 
Farnham.  There  is  nothing  to  tell,  really,  only 
that  Mr.  Harlow  did  me  the  great  honor  of  being 
jealous  of  me,  and  intended  then  and  there  to 
put  it  out  of  my  power  to  love  anybody.  I 
merely  defended  myself  by  a  return  shot.  Would 
you  have  cared,  Jennie,  if  I  had  been  killed? 
Answer  me  truly,  darling." 

He  looked  into  her  troubled  eyes  with  a  ten 
derness  that  was  magnetizing.  She  felt  the 
influence  of  that  look,  and  hastened  to  break  it. 

"  Killed!  Oh,  Ross!  What  am  I  saying.  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  that  any  life  might  have 
been  lost  for  such  a  foolish,  giddy  girl.  What 
would  my  father  and  mother  say?  I  can  never 
be  anything  to  Reuben  Harlow,  nor  to  anyone 
else.  I  am  a  poor  girl,  working  for  my  living, 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  1 1/ 

and  I  need  to  be  more  careful  than  those  who 
have  home  and  friends  to  care  for  them.  My 
family  have  always  been  honorable  and  respect 
able,  if  they  are  poor," 

Ross  Farnham  thought  he  had  never  admired 
her  so  much  as  at  that  moment.  Her  eyes  were 
filled  with  the  sweet  dew  of  humility,  and  when 
she  repeated  the  assertion,  "  I  am  a  poor  girl," 
she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  pride  that  rivalled 
his  own.  Almost  he  was  ashamed  of  himself. 
Almost  he  determined  to  let  this  little  wild 
flower  bloom  unplucked,  or  else  to  wear  it  in  his 
bosom,  that  all  the  world  might  see.  Then  the 
hydra-headed  serpent  of  selfishness  reared  itself 
in  his  sight,  and  his  spasm  of  goodness  was  over. 

"  You  are  tired  and  depressed,"  he  said,  kindly. 
"Do  not  let  any  narrow-minded,  conservative 
set  of  people  sway  you  into  their  narrow  groove 
of  thought  and  action.  As  for  myself,  1  am  will 
ing  to  die  in  your  service.  I  cherish  this 
wounded  arm  as  a  soldier  does  his  medal  of 
honor.  Am  I  presumptuous !  Good  bye,  till  I 
see  you  again."  He  lifted  his  hat,  looked  at  her 
with  a  half  sad  smile,  and  turned  back  at  his 
cousin's  door. 


Il8  AGAINST  FATE. 

It  was  all  very  fine  acting,  but  how  was  Jennie 
to  know?  She  had  never  been  to  a  theatre,  and 
by  no  comparison  could  decide  the  real  from  the 
ideal.  When  Ross  Farnham  looked  at  her  in 
that  way,  her  world  was  conquered. 

Mrs.  Monroe  was  not  exactly  in  good  humor 
when  Jennie  reached  home.  The  B.  W.  A.  S. 
correspondence  had  got  into  a  snarl.  The  treas 
urer  had  reported  fourteen  cents  on  hand,  after 
a  three  o'clock  lunch  which  the  society  had  in 
dulged  in,  but  on  demand,  it  was  found  to  be 
only  eleven  cents.  Three  had  been  feloniously 
abstracted.  Every  member  looked  at  every  other 
member  with  suspicion,  when  the  affair  was 
known,  and  sent  in  a  four-page  letter  of  remon 
strance  to  the  President.  All  the  letters  had  ar 
rived  in  one  mail  that  morning,  while  the  presi 
dent  was  taking  her  tea  and  toast  in  bed,  and  they 
had  literally  overwhelmed  her.  Jennie  tried  to 
sort  out  the  letters  and  put  them  in  shape, 
expecting  every  moment  that  Mrs.  Monroe 
would  allude  to  the  account  in  the  morning 
papers.  She  did  not,  however,  for  the  suffi 
cient  reason  that  she  knew  nothing  about  it. 
If  Mr.  Monroe  had  seen  the  intelligence,  he 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  1 19 

had  not    thought  it  worth   while  to   enlighten 
his  wife. 

'  "  You  can  take  the  tray  out,  Jennie,"  said  Mrs. 
Monroe,  "and  hand  me  the  paper.  Raise  the 
curtain  a  little.  Tell  Esther  I  would  like  a. sago 
pudding  for  lunch,  and  see  what  that  giddy 
Sarah  is  about.  You  can  answer  those  letters  this 
afternoon.  If  I  feel  well  enough  I  will  try  to 
attend  the  maternity  meeting  at  Mrs.  Field's. 
You  might  get  out  my  seal-skin  cloak  and  cap, 
and  tell  Horace  to  be  ready  with  the  carriage  at 
two." 

Jennie  withdrew  and  quickly  fulfilled  her  or 
ders.  She  was  in  her  own  room,  when  a  loud 
scream  from  Mrs.  Monroe  startled  her,  though 
she  instantly  divined  what  it  meant.  Her  heart 
throbbed  guiltily  as  she  entered  the  room  and 
saw  Mrs.  Monroe  looking  very  white  and  stern, 
her  finger  placed  on  a  paragraph  in  the  paper. 

"  Girl !  "  sh.e  exclaimed,  as  Jennie  stood  silent 
and  abashed  before  her,  "see  what  you  have 
done!  I  hope  you  are  satisfied  with  the  mis 
chief  you  have  wrought.  It  is  not  enough  that 
Ross  Farnham  has  rescued  you  from  poverty  and 
obscurity,  but  you  must  be  the  means  of  nearly 


120  AGAINST   FATE. 

costing  him  his  life,  with  your  baby  face  and 
childish  ways.  Who  is  this  man  who  tried  to 
shoot  him  down  like  an  assassin  ? " 

"It  is  Eeuben  Harlow.  He  has  been  in  the 
city  for  some  time,  but  I  did  not  know  it  till 
last  night.  He  has  no  right  to  watch  me,  or  any 
one  who  is  seen  in  my  company.  I  don't  see 
how  you  can  blame  me,  Mrs.  Monroe,  for  what 
has  happened." 

"  I  do  blame  you  for  always  thrusting  your 
self  into  notice  when  Mr.  Farnham  is  here.  I 
have  tried  my  best  to  make  you  think  of  higher 
objects  in  life  than  the  admiration  and  attention 
of  gentlemen.  Let  me  tell  you,  Ross  Farnham 
will  never  marry  you.  He  will  wring  all  the 
sweetness  from  your  life,  and  throwr  it  away  an 
utter  wreck.  If  you  have  learned  to  love  him, 
unlearn  it  as  soon  as  you  can.  You  will  have 
no  recompense  in  this  wTorld.  I  wish  you  had 
never  seen  him." 

Ah|  if  she  had  only  told  Jennie  her  own  story 
then — told  it,  not  in  bitterness  and  anger,  but 
in  womanly  sorrow  and  humility,  what  after 
hours  of  anguish  might  have  been  spared  her. 

Jennie    answered    none    of    the    accusations 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  121 

against  her,  but  went  about  her  duties  for  the 
day  without  a  word.  Her  heart  was  full  to 
overflowing,  and  she  saw  everything  through  a 
mist  of  tears.  "  He  loves  ine  not ;  he  loves  me 
not,  and  I  have  given  my  heart  to  him  beyond 
recall,"  she  kept  thinking  over  and  over.  She 
was  glad  when  Mrs.  Monroe  was  dressed  and 
ready  for  the  maternity  meeting.  "  I  wonder," 
she  thought,  "  if  they  will  discuss  me  among 
them." 

She  went  back  up  stairs  into  the  empty  rooms 
and  began  putting  them  in  order.  They  were 
full  of  carved  beauty  and  embroidered  sentiment, 
but  among  them  a  human  soul  was  being  rent 
and  torn,  and  it  was  valued  the  least  of  any 
thing  there.  "What  shall  I  do;  what  shall  I 
do  ? "  the  girl  was  saying  to  herself  repeatedly, 
as  she  folded  splendid  robes  and  laid  them  away. 
It  seemed,  already,  as  if  disgrace  had  overtaken 
her.  She  finished  her  duties,  and  then-  threw 
herself  into  a  chair  and  tried  to  think. 

Mrs.  Monroe  had  a  very  comfortable  time  at 
the  maternity  meeting.  She  prayed  fervently 
for  "  the  dear  children  committed  to  our  care," 
and  was  very  gracious  to  everybody.  She  did 


122  AGAINST    FATE. 

not  go  to  the  office  for  her  husband,  but  on  her 
way  home'she  picked  up  her  cousin,  just  parting 
from  some  ladies  who  had  gushed  sympathetic 
ally  over  him.  They  had  a  long  confidential 
talk  before  they  reached  home,  and  there  were 
traces  of  angry  tears  on  Mrs.  Monroe's  enamelled 
cheeks  when  she  stepped  from  her  carriage. 
Ross  did  not  go  into  the  house.  He  gave  his 
cousin's  coachman  a  direction,  and  drove  away. 
They  stopped  near  the  corner  of  Eighteenth 
street  and  Wabash  avenue. 

"  You  can  return  home,"  said  Mr.  Farnham, 
placing  a  liberal  douceur  in  the  man's  hand. 
He  walked  on  until  he  came  to  a  handsome  mar 
ble  front  house,  which  looked  as  if  it  were  shut 
up  and  forsaken,  all  the  shutters  being  closed 
and  the  bars  dropped.  He  rang  the  silver- 
handled  bell,  and,  after  a  very  brief  delay,  the 
door  was  opened  by  a  small  boy,  black  and  sleek. 

"  Is  your  mistress  in? "  asked  Mr.  Farnham, 
following  him  into  the  darkened  parlor. 

"Yes,  sir;  missis  is  up  stairs." 

"  Then  give  her  this,"  and  he  laid  his  card  in 
the  outstretched  ebony  palm. 

The  boy  grinned,  backed  out  of  the  room,  and 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  123 

with  three  bounds  mounted  the  stately  staircase 
and  delivered  his  message. 

Boss  Farnham,  meanwhile,  made  himself  per 
fectly  at  home.  He  drew  aside  the  costly 
wrought  lace  curtains  from  the  windows,  and, 
opening  one,  turned  back  the  closed  shutters. 
Then  he  took  a  critical  survey  of  the  apartment. 
It  was  faultlessly  splendid  in  all  its  elegant  ap 
pointments,  velvet  carpets  of  rose  and  wood  color, 
gold-leaf  and  drab  on  the  walls,  mosaic  tables, 
mirrors,  pictures  of  rarest  beauty  and  value,  lux 
urious  chairs  and  divans,  no  two  alike,  and  rare 
and  costly  bric-a-brac  everywhere.  Not  a  speck 
of  dust  nor  a  sign  of  disorder  was  visible,  nor  yet 
any  of  the  stiffness  or  newness  of  elegant  fur 
nishings.  In  an  arch  at  the  end  of  the  room 
were  three  exquisite  statues  of  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity,  and  upon  a  background  of  Cardinal  red 
velvet  hung  Thorvaldsen's  Night  and  Morning 
in  bas-relief. 

A  slight  rustle  at  the  door  announced  the  mis 
tress  of  all  this  grandeur.  Farnham  was  exam 
ining  a  new  engraving  on  the  centre  table.  He 
lifted  his  eyes  a  moment,  nodded  coolly,  and 
went  on  with  his  inspection. 


124  AGAINST  FATE. 

The  woman  who  entered  was  about  twenty- 
eight  years  old,  tall  and  slender,  and  dark,  with 
flashing  black  eyes  and  stormy  brows.  Her 
cheeks  were  redder  than  nature  intended  them 
to  be,  and  her  dress  was  too  elaborate  for  a  home 
toilet.  Her  features  were  small  and  regular,  but 
worn  by  care  or  dissipation.  She  started  when 
she  saw  the  wounded  arm. 

"  Have  you  come  for  me  to  nurse  you,"  she 
asked,  in  a  voice  not  inharmonious,  but  lacking 
culture.  "  I  saw  this  morning  you  were  in 
trouble.  Who  is  it  about  this  time?" 

"That  is  what  I  came  to  talk  about,  Helen;  I 
felt  sure  that  I  could  trust  you." 

"Don't  be  too  sure,"  said  the  woman  mock 
ingly,  while  a  sudden  gleam  lightened  her  bad, 
dark  eyes.  "  You  have  not  been  here  for  a  long 
time;  but  I  know  where  you  have  been." 

"  Do  you?  Then  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to 
tell  you.  I  came  here  on  business  to-day.  Do 
you  care  to  renew  the  lease  of  this  house,  or 
shall  I  let  it  to  another  tenant?" 

"You  did  not  come  here  to-day  to  ask  me 
that,  Ross;  you  are  trying  to  frighten  me,  but  it 


JUDAS   IN   PETTICOATS.  12$ 

is  of  no  use.  We  have  too  many  mutual  inter 
ests  at  stake  to  quarrel." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,  Helen.  Now  listen, 
and  I  will  tell  you  the  reason  of  my  present 
visit.  You  will  find  it  to  your  interest  to  serve 
me  faithfully." 

They  held  a  long  conference,  the  nature  of 
which  these  pages  will  in  due  time  reveal. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A   FEATHER   HE   DID   NOT   WEAR. 

VA  had  left  her  situation.  It  happened 
in  this  way:  Mr.  Bates  had  decided  in 
his  own  mind  that  something  definite 
must  be  done  to  forward  his  wicked  project  in 
regard  to  Eva,  therefore  the  morning  after  his 
encounter  with  Ross  Farnham  he  decided  to 
approach  the  subject  as  nearly  as  he  dared,  by 
inviting  her  to  accompany  him  to  the  theatre  in 
the  evening.  A  new  play,  by  some  local  genius, 
was  attracting  attention,  and  Eva  had  unguard 
edly  expressed,  in  his  hearing,  a  wish  to  see  it. 
Taking  an  opportunity,  when  he  had  some  orders 
to  give  concerning  the  stock,  he  invited  her,  in  a 
whispered  communication  that  caused  her  cheeks 
to  redden  consciously,  for  she  felt  that  the  eyes 
of  the  other  employees  were  upon  her.  She 

never  could  tell  what  answer  she  did  make,  but 

(126) 


A  FEATHER   HE    DID   NOT  WEAR.         I2/ 

it  must  have  been  construed  into  an  affirmative 
one,  for  he  said,  in  the  same  cautious  monotone: 

"  I  will  be  there  with  the  carriage  at  eight,  or 
a  little  earlier.  You  can  leave  the  store  at  three, 
to-day;"  and  he  passed  on,  leaving  the  bewildered 
girl  in  a  maze  of  doubt  and  surprise.  She  saw 
the  other  girls  looking  and  smiling,  some  with 
envious  shrugs  and  side  glances  of  mocking 
disdain.  Help  it  she  could  not,  but  it  seemed  to 
her  as  if  some  barrier  of  innocence  had  been 
thrown  down,  since  last  she  looked  at  them,  and 
her  cheeks  flamed  as  if  she  were  already  guilty. 
Margaret  Holmes  was  not  in  the  store  that  day. 
She  had  a  cold,  and  sore  throat,  and  had  staid  at 
home  to  take  care  of  herself,  protesting  against 
the  enforced  idleness.  She  dreaded  being  absent 
'  from  the  store  for  one  day,  feeling  that  Eva 
needed  her  protection  every  moment.  She  had 
become  very  fond  of  the  young  girl,  who  was 
giving  her  whole  heart  to  her  work,  enduring  its 
toil  and  nameless  hardships  for  the  sake  of  the 
dear  ones  at  home,  and  she  vowed  to  herself  that 
not  the  shadow  of  harm  should  come  to  her 
while  she  lived  to  avert  it. 

Margaret  had  grown  very  restless  as  the  time 


128  AGAINST   FATE. 

came  near  for  Eva's  return.  A  forlorn  woman, 
who  had  been  trying  to  get  a  situation  for  at 
least  a  year,  and  had  baited  the  wolf  at  her  door 
with  bits  of  sewing,  odd  jobs  of  nursing,  and 
copying,  a  strange  combination,  had  been  in, 
with  a  flushed  face,  to  say  that  she  had  secured 
a  job  for  the  winter,  of  making  waterproofs  at 
forty  cents  each. 

"  Why,  L  would  have  taken  them  at  twenty- 
five  cents,"  she  said,  "  rather  than  not  have  had 
them.  I  can  make  two  a  day  easily,  by  sitting 
up  nights  at  the  button-holes.  I  declare  I  had 
to  come  and  tell  you  of  my  good  luck.  The 
Lord  does  seem  to  remember  us  sometimes.11' 

Margaret  Holmes  smiled  sadly  as  the  rv^ty 
alpaca  dress  of  her  visitor  vanisned  from  sight. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  rnused  aloud,  "  if  He  does 
care  that  we  suffer,  and  lack  every  good  thing  in 
life,  and  if  it  is  really  true  that  He  sees  our 
compensation,  and  knows  that  our  sorrow 
endures  only  for  a  day  ?  I  am  sure,  when  I  was 
a  girl,  all  my  impulses  were  good,  and  I  had 
such  a  sincere  belief  that  God  would  take  care 
of  me,  until "  —then  she  clasped  her  hands  over 
her  thin  face,  flushed  with  fever  —  "  until  it  was 


A   FEATHER   HE    DID   NOT  WEAR.         129 

too  late  !  Oh  God,  how  true  that  homely  sen 
tence  is,  that  our  lives  are  made  up  of  just  two 
regrets:  'I  wish  that  I  had,  and  I  wish  that  I 
had  n't.'  I  wonder,  if  I  had  my  life  to  live  over 
again,  if  I  should  do  any  better  ! " 

Just  then  a  pleasant  looking  little  woman, 
whose  room  was  next  door,  Iooke4  in,  and  asked 
Margaret  if  she  felt  better.  "  I  thought  your 
room-mate  was  here,"  she  said.  "  I  met  her 
early  this  afternoon,  and  supposed  she  was 
coming  home  to  sit  with  you." 

"  Met  Eva  !  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken. 
She  cannot  leave  the  store  until  six." 

"  Oh  no,  there  was  no  mistake.  She  was 
walking  very  slowly,  and  looking  about  her;  but 
she  did  not  notice  me.  I  observed  her  particu 
larly,  she  had  such  a  lovely  color." 

Margaret  Holmes  said  no  more,  and  the  caller 
went  into  her  own  room.  When  the  door  had 
closed  and  she  was  alone,  Margaret  sank  back  on 
the  lounge,  where  she  had  lain  all  day,  and 
clasped  her  hands  in  perplexity. 

"  What  has  happened  to  take  her  out  of  the 
store  this  afternoon  ?  Has  he  taken  advantage 
of  this  one  day's  absence  to  further  his  infernal 
9 


130  AGAINST   FATE. 

schemes  ?  He  shall  not !  He  shall  not !  I  have 
sworn  to  my  own  soul  to  save  this  girl  from  the 
fate  that,  sooner  or  later,  is  offered  to  them  all  ! 
It  is  time  she  was  here  now;  is  that  her  step  ?" 

Yes,  it  was.  Eva  came  in  with  an  excitement 
in  her  manner  that  was  not  natural.  She  asked 
Margaret  how. her  headache  was,  without  looking 
at  her;  moved  her  things  restlessly  from  one 
place  to  another,  and  finally  went  down  to  supper, 
without  alluding  to  the  fact  that  she  had  left  the 
store  earlier  than  usual. 

Margaret  asked  no  questions.  She  felt  hurt  at 
this  first  want  of  confidence  in  her,  surprised 
and  grieved  at  Eva's  changed  manner,  and 
distressed  beyond  measure  at  what  it  implied  ; 
but  she  deemed  it  wisest  to  be  silent  for  the 
present. 

Eva  merely  made  a  pretense  of  supper,  to 
compose  her  mind  over  the  events  of  the  day. 
She  had  left  the  store  at  three,  and  walked  all 
the  way  home,  first,  however,  loitering  through 
the  principal  streets,  which  were  gay  with  ele 
gantly  dressed  ladies.  The  stores  were  trimmed 
for  the  holidays,  and  presented  a  very  bright 
appearance.  It  was  like  an  enchanted  city  to 


A   FEATHER    HE   DID   NOT  WEAR.         131 

Eva,  looking  at  it  with  work-a-day  eyes.  She 
passed  the  gorgeous  theatre,  and  wondered  how 
it  looked  within  when  all  the  splendid  chande 
liers  were  alight.  If  only  she  had  said  no;  yet 
what  harm  could  there  be  in  going  just  once  ? 
She  was  sure  she  could  take  care  of  herself.  She 
knew  that  a  very  nice  young  lady  had  accompa 
nied  Mr.  Bates  quite  lately,  and  as  his  wife  was 
absent  no  one  thought  anything  of  it.  She 
longed  to  see  a  play.  Margaret  would  be  very 
angry,  but  why  let  her  know?  She  was  not 
compelled  to  do  as  Margaret  Holmes  wanted  her 
to ;  besides  Margaret  was  prejudiced.  She  would 
go  just  this  once,  and  write  all  about  it  to  her 
good,  sensible  mother  the  next  day.  She  had 
not  time  to  arrive  at  any  decision  before  she  had 
to  return  to  her  room  to  get  ready.  She  was 
glad  that  Margaret  was  asleep,  and  moved  about 
very  lightly  as  she  changed  her  dress  and  ribbons, 
and  put  on  her  best  hat.  She  hoped  to  steal  out 
softly  and  not  awaken  the  invalid,  but  as  she 
opened  the  door,  a  hand  was  laid  on  her  shoulder 
compelling  her  to  turn.  Margaret's  face,  white 
and  set,  confronted  her. 

"Child!  "  she  said,  in  low,  husky  tones,  "you 


132  AGAINST   FATE. 

are  going  to  do  some  wrong  thing  this  night. 
What  is  it?" 

Eva  had  intended  to  pnt  her  off,  or  if  obliged 
to  reveal  anything,  to  be  hard  and  defiant;  but 
she  could  not  dissemble  as  she  looked  into  that 
face,  behind  which  an  awful  shadow  seemed 
lurking  —  the  shadow  of  death !  —  it  was  so 
white  and  solemn  !  She  led  Margaret  back  to 
the  lounge,  and  kneeling  beside  her,  pillowed  the 
hot  head  on  her  arms,  while  she  told  her,  with 
sobs  of  feeling,  the  truth! 

When  she  had  finished  Margaret  Holmes  arose 
from  the  lounge.  "  Give  me  your  hat  and  shawl," 
she  said  firmly;  "  and  your  blue  veil,  quick!  We 
are  the  same  height.  Here,  help  me  arrange  the 
veil.  Now,  child,  pray  God  I  may  be  permitted 
to  be  your  deliverer." 

She  passed  out  of  the  room,  and  down  the 
stairs  to  the  hall  door.  As  she  opened  it  she 
saw  a  carriage  drawn  under  the  lamps.  She 
moved  quickly  toward  it,  the  cold  air  cutting  her 
thin  frame  like  a  knife. 

"  I  was  so  afraid  you  would  not  come.  How 
did  you  manage?"  asked  a  well-known  voice 
within.  So  far  the  disguise  answered. 


A   FEATHER   HE    DID   NOT  WEAR.         133 

The  driver  held  the  door  open,  and  the  veiled 
and  disguised  figure  sprang  in,  and  the  next 
moment  the  horses  moved  rapidly  away. 

"  You  are  shivering,"  said  Mr.  Bates,  for  it 
was  he;  "let  me  wrap  this  carriage  robe  around 
you.  You  were  so  good  to  come.  Did  Margaret 
Holmes  suspect  anything?" 

He  had  not  considered  it  necessary  to  remove 
his  arm  after  encircling  the  trembling  form  with 
the  furry  robe,  and  he  now  endeavored  to  turn 
the  unwilling  face  toward  him,  and  was  trying  to 
look  through  the  obscurity  of  the  blue  veil,  when 
a  feverish  hand  withdrew  it,  and  a  worn,  white 
face  confronted  him.  Thrown  entirely  off  his 
guard,  he  uttered  a  fierce  oath  and  glared  angrily 
at  her;  then  he  muttered  sullenly: 

"  You  are  determined,  it  seems,  to  cross  my 
path.  I  do  not  know  what  your  reasons  are,  but 
I  shall  put  it  out  of  your  power  to  watch  me  any 
further;  I  will  suifer  no  spy  on  my  actions,  you, 
least  of  all.  I  require  your  services  no  longer 
in  any  capacity." 

"  Defy  me  if  you  choose,"  answered  Margaret, 
firmly;  u  I  am  what  you  made  me.  It  seems 
you  do  not  fear  me  any  longer;  for  myself  I  ask 


134  AGAINST  FATE. 

nothing;  I  accept  my  dismissal;  but  if  you  ever 
dare  to  offer  jour  wicked  attentions  to  this  young 
girl,  whom  I  have  saved  to-night  from  villainy 
she  does  not  dream  of,  I  will  denounce  you  to 
the  world  you  deceive  and  the  family  you  so 
wickedly  wrong.  You  need  to  fear  me;  my 
ruined  life  shall  haunt  you  yet,  a  dark  spectre  of 
your  own  conjuring.  Something  tells  me  that 
these  are  my  last  words  to  you;  remember  them 
when  you  come  to  die!  " 

She  stopped  the  carriage,  got  out,  and  walked 
home,  with  a  w.eariness  of  body  she  did  not  notice, 
and  a  pain  at  her  heart  that  was  like  mortal 
agony,  as  she  entered  the  portals  of  the  Home. 
When  she  left  it  again  it  was  for  a  longer 
journey. 


CHAPTEE  XY. 

ON    THE    BRINK. 

HEN  Jennie  had  finished  the  duties 
devolving  upon  her  in  the  absence  of 
Mrs.  Monroe,  she  went  into  her  own 
little  room  and  sat  down  to  think  —  to  try  to 
think,  would  be  nearer  the  truth.  Her  mind  was 
in  a  maze  of  perplexity  and  trouble,  and  she 
longed  for  some  help  to  enable  her  to  walk  in  the 
right  way.  She  had  never  been  taught  to  rely 
upon  herself.  The  world  had  been  to  her  as  a 
sealed  book  hitherto;  now  it  had  opened  at  one 
of  its  brightest  pages,  where  love  was  the  glow 
ing  inscription.  Must  hers  be  the  hand  to  close 
it  again?  Must  she  give  up  this  beautiful* 
blessed  vision,  and  go  back  to  the  dreary  farm 
house,  to  long  monotonous  years  of  toil,  and  end 
her  dreams  as  her  mother's  had  ended,  in  weari 
ness  and  disappointment  2  Then  she  pictured 

herself  as  Ross  Farnham's  wife—  his  loving  and 

(155) 


136  AGAINST   FATE. 

beloved  wife  —  with  the  right  to  receive  and 
return  his  caresses,  and  to  claim  his  affection 
before  the  whole  world.  She  had  loved  him  since 
the  hour  she  first  met  him ;  loved  him  with  that 
wild,  all-absorbing  love  that  only  a  few  women, 
thank  Heaven,  are  capable  of  cherishing.  In 
her  eyes  he  was  as  a  God  among  other  men.  She 
believed  him  good  and  true.  Of  the  dark  and 
sinful  by-ways  of  life  Jennie  knew  nothing;  she 
had  only  a  nameless  sort  of  horror  for  vice,  which 
was  not  clearly  comprehended. 

She  had  performed  to-day  the  highest  act  of 
heroism  of  which  her  undeveloped  nature  Avas 
capable,  when  she  spoke  as  she  did  to  Ross  Farn- 
ham.  It  had  cut  her  to  the  heart  at  the  time, 
and  it  hurt  her  now  to  think  of  it.  That  she 
could  have  been  cruel  and  unkind  to  him,  when 
he  bore  a  wounded  arm  in  her  defense!  He  had 
so  often  told  her  he  loved  her,  not  in  any  mere 
complimentary  terms,  but  in  low,  sweet  words  of 
burning  eloquence,  uttered  at  stolen  opportuni 
ties,  and  by  so  many  of  those  tender  caressing 
ways  wrhich  are  the  small  change  of  the  agents  of 
sin,  or  the  true  declarations  of  a  loving  heart; 
but  of  marriage  he  had  not  spoken ;  that  was  her 


ON    THE   BRINK.  137 

own  inference.  She  wondered  why  Mrs.  Monroe 
had  changed  so  in  her  treatment  of  her;  why  she 
had  grown  cold,  and  capricious,  and  often  very 
unkind. 

She  leaned  her  head  wearily  on  her  hand  — 
where  should  she  turn  for  -help  ?  Then  came 
over  her,  like  an  inspiration,  the  memory  of  what 
her  mother  had  done  when  torn  by  doubts  and 
perplexities;  she  had  prayed.  Prayer,  with  youth, 
seems  mort  of  a  pleasant  habit  than  a  necessity. 
Youth  and  health  are  all-sufficient  until  the 
dark  days  come  to  turn  the  longing  hearts 
heavenward.  Jennie  thought  that  God  must 
help  her  if  she  asked  it  of  him ;  she  remembered 
when  a  little  girl,  she  had  prayed  once  for  a  doll, 
and  it  came;  she  did  not  reflect  that  earthly  ears 
had  heard  her  petition,  and  earthly  love  supplied 
the  want.  Now  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees, 
and  prayed  with  all  her  heart,  and  yet  the  spirit 
of  her  prayer  was,  "  Not  Thy  will  but  mine  be 
done." 

Is  there  any  help  in  prayer!  Yes!  there  is 
strength  and  peace.  That  the  Infinite  God  will 
change  any  of  His  plans  for  your  asking  or  for 
mine  is  hard  to  believe;  we  have  all  pleaded  to 


138  AGAINST  FATE. 

retain  our  treasures,  even  while  they  passed  beyond 
our  grasp;  we  ask  God  to  take  care  of  us  here, 
and  He  does  not,  but  just  where  our  imperfect 
work  is  dropped  He  takes  it  up  and  completes 
it  in  His  time  and  way.  We  see  only  the  sorrow 
and  the  sin;  He  sees  the  compensation.  More, 
we  know  not. 

Jennie  arose  from  her  knees,  comforted  in  some 
vague  way;  then  she  thought  of  the  little  book 
she  had  promised  her  mother  to  read,  and  she 
went  down  on  her  knees  again  and  searched  her 
trunk  for  it.  It  was  not  to  be  found,  and  after  a 
little  time  she  remembered  losing  it  as  she  left 
home.  She  hoped  her  mother  would  never  know 
of  her  defection  in  the  matter. 

She  was  still  sitting  there,  still  thinking  — 
trying  to  work  out  some  rule  of  conduct,  when 
Mrs.  Monroe  returned,  very  tired,  very  cross,  and 
with  an  unusual  amount  of  headache  and  indis 
position.  Jennie  hurried  to  assist  her,  wiping 
away  all  traces  of  tears  and  worry  from  her  own 
fair  face.  She  had  many  gentle,  fondling  ways, 
and  although  she  could  not  offer  any  real  demon 
strations  of  love  to  her  mistress,  there  were  times 
when  her  heart  yearned  for  sympathy,  and  went 


ON   THE   BRINK.  139 

out  in  silent  caresses,  manifested  chiefly  in  a 
tender  manner,  which  Mrs.  Monroe  accepted  as 
homage  due  to  her,  sometimes  in  silence,  occa 
sionally  with  a  patronizing  remark. 

It  was  a  pity  that  her  beautiful  theory  of  ma 
ternity,  as  promulgated  on  the  platform  and  in 
print,  could  not  have  been  illustrated  now,  upon 
this  young  girl  standing  on  the  brink  of  ruin. 
Will  she  warn  and  save  her  ?  Will  God  permit 
this  girl's  soul  to  be  caught  in  the  snare? 

Upon  this  evening,  Mrs.  Monroe  was  more 
cross,  more  capricious,  and  more  disagreeable 
than  usual,  and  seemed  bent  upon  a  quarrel  with 
some  one.  Jennie  concluded  that  the  maternity 
meeting  had  not  been  altogether  a  success,  as  she 
sought  an  anodyne  where  she  often  found  it,  in  a 
colorless  liquid  with  a  pungent  odor,  and  Jennie, 
having  laid  away  the  seal-skin  cloak  and  its 
appurtenances,  went  back  to  her  room  and  closed 
the  door,  more  depressed  than  ever.  She  was 
busy  at  some  sewing,  when  Mrs.  Monroe's  bell 
rang,  and  she  noticed  that  it  was  growing  dark. 
She  found  her  mistress  wrapped  in  her  usual, 
toga  —  a  robe-de-chambre  —  and  lying  on  a 
lounge,  with  a  bottle  of  ammonia  in  her  hand. 


140  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  Come  here,"  she  said,  as  Jennie  came  into 
the  room,  "  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

She  did  not  seem  in  any  hurry  to  say  it,  but 
soaked  her  handkerchief  in  camphor  and  applied 
it  to  her  head;  then  she  resumed  the  ammonia. 
Jennie  waited,  with  the  feelings  of  a  naughty 
child  who  expects  a  chiding. 

"  I  am  going  to  send  you  away,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Monroe,  breaking  the  silence  abruptly, 
"  and  I  think  it  best  you  should  go  at  once.  Here 
are  ten  dollars,  all  I  owe  you;  I  suppose  you 
can  stop  with  your  friends  until  you  find  another 
place." 

"Send  me  away !"  repeated  Jennie,  mechani 
cally.  "  Oh !  Mrs.  Monroe,  what  have  I  done 
that  you  send  me  out  of  your  house  without  a 
moment's  notice?  I  have  tried  to  please  you, 
a,nd  you  have  said  you  liked  me,  and  now,  oh, 
what  will  my  mother  say!  " 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  answered  Mrs.  Monroe. 
She  had  reasons  tor  not  wishing  to  prolong  the 
interview.  "  Mr.  Monroe  thinks  I  keep  too  much 
help,  and  you  are  quite  too  vain  and  giddy  to 
stay  with  me.  I  cannot  have  a  scene,"  she  added, 
her  voice  rising  to  a  shriek ;  "  my  nerves  are  not 


ON   THE   BRINK.  14! 

strong.  You  choose  to  set  people  talking  about 
you,  and  must  bear  the  consequences.  I  have 
tried  to  do  my  duty  by  you.  Go  right  to  your 
friends  before  it  is  any  darker.  You  can  send 
for  your  trunk  to-morrow." 

Jennie  fell  down  beside  the  lounge,  and  clasped 
the  large,  white,  cruel-looking  hands,  heavy  with 
jewelled  rings,  in  her  small,  dimpled  ones. 

"  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Monroe,"  she  pleaded,  "  do  let 
me  stay  with  you;  I  will  work  for  nothing.  At 
least,  let  me  stay  till  I  can  find  another  place;  I 
have  no  friends  to  stay  with,  even  to-night;  what 
would  the  Winnes  think  of  me?  I  will  not  be 
any  more  trouble  to  you  if  you  will  let  me  stay." 

"  You  are  distressing  me  dreadfully,"  answered 
the  champion  of  her  sex,  loosing  her  hands  and 
pushing  back  the  kneeling  girl.  "  I  consider  it 
my  duty  to  send  you  away  for  your  own  good ; 
now  go  at  once,  or  I  shall  call  for  Esther  to 
compel  you  to  leave." 

"  You  need  not,"  said  Jennie  quickly,  rising 
to  her  feet.  ';  Proud,  cruel  woman!  I  will  never 
ask  another  favor  of  you,  and  I  hope  God  may 
deal  with  you  as  you  have  dealt  with  me  this 
night." 


142  AGAINST   FATE. 

She  went  into  her  room,  and  was  soon  ready 
to  depart.  As  she  passed  down  the  stairs  she 
heard  Esther  and  Sarah  laughing  in  the  kitchen, 
and  turned  to  go  down  and  say  good-bye  to  them, 
but  their  probable  questions  dismayed  her.. 
"What  could  I  tell  them,"  she  thought;  "that 
I  am  turned  out  of  the  house.  But  what  is  it 
for?" 

The  door  closed  behind  her.  She  stood  on  the 
granite  steps,  and  looked  up  and  down  the  street. 
Business  men  from  the  city  were  driving  past, 
going  home  to  their  wives  and  children ;  they  all 
looked  comfortable  and  happy.  In  the  west,  a 
great  bank  of  clouds  was  piled  high,  and  still 
tinted  red  from  the  sunset.  The  lamps  were 
lighted,  and  but  few  people  were  walking,  and 
they  were  hurrying  along  homeward.  Jennie 
yearned  with  an  aching  heart  for  the  old  farm 
house,  for  the  two  there  who  loved  her  beyond 
doubt  or  cavil,  and  she  made  up  her  mind  quick 
ly,  to  go  back  to  them.  Any  home  poverty  could 
give  was  better  than  this  homelessness,  and  her 
heart  turned  cold  and  hard  to  the  woman  up 
stairs. 

Ci  Yes,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  I  will  go  to 


ON   THE   BRINK. 


143 


the  Winne's  to-night;  if  they  will  not  let  me 
stay  I  will  find  Eva,  and  to-morrow  I  will  send 
for  my  trunk  and  go  home." 

But  many  to-morrows  came  and  went,    and 
Jennie  neither  sent  for  her  trunk  nor  went  home ! . 


CHAPTEK  XVI. 

TANGLED     THREADS. 

ARGAKET  HOLMES  was  very  ill. 
The  inmates  of  the  Home  walked  about 
on  tip-toe,  and  spoke  in  subdued  whis 
pers  as  they  passed  the  sick  girl's  door.  Many 
of  them  had  not  liked  her  particularly,  and  a  few 
had  shunned  her;  but  now  they  all  thought  of 
her  only  as  a  helpless  woman,  fighting  a  cruel 
foe  that  was  likely  to  worst  her  in  the  encounter. 
She  had  taken  a  deadly  cold  on  that  night  when 
she  went  out  to  save  Eva;  she  had  forgotten  to 
change  the  thin  slippers  she  wore,  and  her  fever 
ish  frame,  already  superinduced  to  illness,  could 
no  longer  resist  the  aggressive  power  of  disease. 
Her  life  had  been  so  long  one  of  denial  and 
hardship,  that  it  seemed  useless  to  call  together 
the  remnant  of.  its  wasted  forces  to  repel  this 
last  fierce  invader.  There  seemed  nothing  to 

take  hold  of ;  no  hope  in  the  future  of  this  life 
(144) 


':  She  stood  on  the  granite  steps  tuul  looked  up  aiul  down 
the  street."1 — Page  142. 


TANGLED   THREADS.  145 

worth  the  effort  to  retain  it.  Worn  and  wasted 
by  fever,  without  and  within,  Margaret  uo  longer 
struggled  or  defied;  she  rested  passive  in  the 
cruel  yet  kind  arms,  that  were  surely  bearing  her 
down  to  the  banks  of  the  dark  river. 

Eva  was  her  faithful  nurse  and  attendant,  by 
night  and  day.  She  felt,  in  her  remorse,  that  it 
would  not  be  too  much  to  give  her  own  young 
life  to  save  her  friend,  and  no  hand  but  hers  was 
permitted  to  turn  and  cool  the  hot  pillows,  to 
pour  out  the  bitter  medicine,  to  bathe  the  fever 
ish,  wasting  form.  Eva's  good,  sensible  mother 
had  taught  her,  in  her  earliest  years,  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  care  of  the  sick,  and  she  turned 
it  now  to  'practical  account.  But  it  only  eased 
the  pain,  it  did  not  remove  it. 

Margaret  grew  worse,  day  by  day,  and  at  last 
sunk  into  a  stupor  which  seemed  to  forebode- 
death.  The  good,  kind,  old  doctor,  who  saw  such 
cases  every  day,  and  yet,  strangely  enough,  did; 
not  become  hardened  —  only  philosophical  — 
clasped  his  hands  over  his  gold-headed  cane,, 
shook  his  head  till  the  wide  shirt-frill  on  his. 
bosom  trembled  in  sympathy,  and  looking  at  Eva 
said: 

10 


146  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  You  had  better  send  for  her  friends,  my 
dear." 

"  I  —  I  believe  she  —  has  n't  —  any,"  replied 
Eva,  between  her  sobs. 

"  So  much  the  better,  then ;  there  will  be  fewer 
left  to  mourn.  She  may  last  this  way  several 
days;  give  the  mixture  when  she  needs  a  drink, 
and  keep  her  quiet.  Don't  cry,  my  dear;  death 
is  not  the  worst  thing  that  can  happen  to  us." 
He  was  retreatino;  to  the  door,  but  came  back. 

O  * 

"Can  I  do  anything  further?  Would  a  little 
money  — 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Eva  quietly;  "we 
have  enough."  And  the  rather  pompous,  but 
really  grand,  old  gentleman,  of  a  past  school, 
bowed  himself  out. 

So  Eva  had  nothing  to  do  but  watch  and  wait. 
She  put  the  sick  room  in  perfect  order,  wrote  a 
little  note  home  to  her  mother,  saying  she  had 
left  the  store,  and  gave  her  reasons  why,  and  then 
sat  motionless  for  hours,  listening  to  the  fitful 
breathing,  that  sometimes  almost  stopped,  and 
then  grew  loud  and  hard.  Occasionally  a  low 
tap  would  summon  her  to  the  door,  to  answer  an 
eager  "how  is  she?"  with  a  sorrowful  shake  of 


TANGLED   THREADS.  147 

the  head.  Sometimes  there  would  be  given  a 
glass  of  lemonade,  or  of  cordial,  for  the  sick  girl, 
or  a  single  hot-house  flower,  bought  at  a  sacrifice 
of  some  small  comfort. 

Towards  night  of  the  third  day  Margaret 
Holmes  stirred  uneasily  and  at  last  opened  her 
heavy  eyes,  with  the  light  of  recognition  in  them. 
She  did  not  speak  for  a  long  time,  but  looked  at 
every  object  in  the  room,  and  then  at  Eva,  long 
and  tenderly,  with  a  gaze  that  was  all-absorbing. 
Her  eyes  had  grown  large  since  her  sickness,  and 
now  they  seemed  bright  and  dark.  A  color  was 
stealing  into  her  pale,  sunken  cheeks,  and  Eva 
wept  with  joy  at  the  change. 

"  You  are  better,  dear  Margaret ;  you  are 
going  to  get  well.  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you  look  like  this." 

Margaret  smiled,  ever  so  faintly.  u  Yes,  I  am 
better  —  I  feel  stronger  —  I  shall  soon  be  well. 
Eva  dear,  how  long  have  I  been  sick?  " 

uOver  two  weeks.  Oh,  Margaret,  you  have 
been  so  ill;  we  were  all  worried  about  you,  and 
now  to  think  you  are  so  much  better  —  it  is  too 
good  news.  I  must  go  and  tell  them  all." 

"Wait,"  said  Margaret;  "wait  till  to-morrow; 


148  AGAINST    FATE. 

good  news  will  keep.  Now  I  want  to  see  Mrs. 
Paine,  and  while  she  is  here  you  must  go  out 
and  take  a  long  walk ;  but  do  not  go  near  that 
store." 

Eva  protested  that  she  did  not  need  any  fresh 
air,  but  Margaret  held  her  point,  through  weak 
ness  that  would  not  be  denied.  So  Mrs.  Paine, 
the  kind  matron  of  the  Home,  took  Eva's  place, 
while  she  went  out  to  walk. 

At  first  Eva  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn. 
It  was  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  a  light  fall 
of  snow  had  frozen  into  a  white,  compact  mass, 
over  which  the  flying  sleighs  skimmed  like  birds. 
Eva  followed  them  with  her  eyes,  and  noted  the 
rosy  cheeks  and  happy  looks  of  the  occupants, 
and  heard  the  music  of  the  jangling,  snow-mad 
bells,  and  the  laughter  of  hearts  delirious  with 
pleasure;  but  envied  them  not.  It  seemed  as  if 
she  never  could  be  unhappy  again.  She  had 
escaped  the  foul  disgrace  of  a  tarnished  name; 
her  friend  was  given  back  to  her  from  the  dead. 
Eva  was  not  a  pious  girl,  in  the  common  accep 
tation  of  that  word,  but  she  would  have  been 
little  better  than  a  heathen,  if  her  heart  had  not 
gone  out  in  gratitude  to  the  protecting  spirit  of 


TANGLED   THREADS.  149 

all  good.  She  walked  briskly  on  until  she  found 
herself  on  the  gayest  thoroughfare  of  the  West 
Side,  Washington  street,  and  then  she  deter 
mined  to  go  and  call  on  Jennie  Armstrong. 

She  had  not  seen  Jennie  since  Thanksgiving, 
nor  had  she  been  at  the  Winne's.  Margaret's 
severe  illness  had  put  every  one  else  out  of  her 
mind ;  but  she  began  to  wonder  that  Jennie  had 
not  called  to  see  her;  Lucia  had  called  one  Sun 
day,  but  Eva,  worn  out  with  watching,  was  asleep 
and  they  would  not  disturb  her.  When  she 
reached  Mrs.  Monroe's  house  and  rang  the  bell, 
it  was  Sarah,  the  housemaid,  who  answered  the 
call. 

"  Is  Jennie — Miss  Armstrong  in? "  asked  Eva. 

"No'm;  she  isn't  here  any  more,"  answered 
Sarah,  with  a  very  expressive  look  on  her  bold 
face.  Lower  servants  always  dislike  upper 
favorites. 

"Not  here?    Why!  when  did  she  leave?" 

"Nearly  a  month  ago,  Miss.  The  fact  is, 
Miss"  —  lower  ing  her  voice  to  a  rude  whisper, 
"Missis  turned  her  out  of  doors."  . 

Eva  stared  at  the  girl  in  utter  bewilderment. 
" Turned  her  out  of  doors!  For  what? " 


150  AGAINST   FATE. 

"Don't  know,  Miss;  but  she  sent  her  off  all 
in  a  minute,  and  we  have  never  seen  her  since, 
and  her  trunk  and  all  her  things  are  here  yet." 

"I  must  see  Mrs.  Monroe,"  said  Eva,  making 
a  motion  to  enter  the  house. 

"  I  do  n't  think  you  can,  Miss,  if  it 's  about 
her.  But  I  '11  take  up  your  message,  if  you  like." 

"  Tell  her  I  'm  a  friend  of  Jennie  Armstrong's 
and  would  like  to  have  her  address.  I  would 
like  to  see  her  and  ask  the  question  myself." 

"  I  'm  sure  you  can  't  see  her,  Miss,  unless  you 
was  sent  here  from  the  Good  Samaritans,  or  the 
Home  for  the  Fallen,  or  the  'Dustrial  School  — 
that  makes  a  difference ;  then  you  'd  be  a  per- 
ishin'  feller  being,  and  she  'd  give  you  tracts, 
and  let  you  work  for  your  board.  I  '11  go  right 
up  now,  Miss." 

The  voluble  Sarah  soon  returned,  with  a  grin 
on  her  face. 

"  She  do  n't  know  nothin'  about  her;  she  do  n't 
want  to  know  nothin'  about  her.  She  plucked 
her  like  a  brand  a  burnin',  and  now  she 's  washed 
her  hands  of  her  forever.  That 's  the  message, 
word  for  word,  Miss." 

Eva  was  full  of  fiery  indignation. 


TANGLED   THREADS.  151 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  that  woman,"  she  said; 
"  I  should  just  like  to  tell  her  what  I  think  of 
her.  I  believe  if  Jennie  Armstrong  has  gone 
wrong  it  is  her  doing."  And  she  turned  her 
back  indignantly  upon  the  closing  door. 

She  turned  her  steps  in  the  direction  of  Lucia's 
boarding  place.  Since  Margaret's  illness  she  had 
not  seen  much  of  Lucia;  indeed,  there  had  arisen 
a  slight  coolness  between  them,  for  Lucia  disap 
proved  of  Margaret  and  the  Home,  both.  She 
received  Eva  in  her  own  room,  however,  pleas 
antly,  if  not  cordially.  She  knew  nothing  of 
Jennie  beyond  the  fact  of  her  disappearance,  of 
which  she  had  recently  heard. 

"  And  you  never  looked  after  her  to  see  what 
had  become  of  her  !  Oh,  Lucia,  how  could 
you?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  Eva.  I  could 
not  go  about  the  streets  looking  after  her.  •  She 
knew  what  the  consequences  must  be  as  well  as 
any  one.  My  brother  thinks  that  she  is  some 
where  in  the  city,  under  the  protection  of  that 
Mr.  Farnham,  but  he  will  not  say  anything  about 
it ;  and  he  has  forbidden  my  ever  speaking  to  her 
again." 


152  AGAINST    FATE. 

"  Oh,  Lucia,  is  n't  it  dreadful!  He  must  have 
deceived  her,  for  I  am  sure  Jennie  was  always  a 
good  girl;  she  might  have  been  a  little  thought 
less,  but  you  know  she  was  pure  and  innocent." 

"Humph!"  answered  Lucia,  coldly.  "That 
does  n't  make  her  any  better  now.  You  know 
we  warned1  her  that  evening  at  my  brother's,  but 
it  seems  it  did  no  good,  for  she  disappeared  only 
a  day  or  two  after,  and  no  one  has  seen  her 
since/' 

"  It  will  kill  her  mother,"  said  Eva,  wiping 
the  tears  away  that  were  falling  fast.  "  Have 
they  heard  about  it  in  Newton?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Lucia;  "but  her  parents  do 
not  believe  it  yet,  and  no  one  has  the  heart  to 
tell  them.  They  are  waiting  for  Reuben  Harlow 
to  return,  while  he  is  lying  between  life  and  death 
at  some  hospital  in  the  city,  we  could  not  find 
out  where.  That  girl  ought  to  suffer  some  of 
the  misery  she  has  caused." 

"  That  girl!  Why  do  you  not  rather  say  that 
man!  If  Jennie  has  gone  wrong,  and  tilings  do 
look  rather  against  her,  Ross  Farnham  is  the  one 
to  blame.  I  believe  now  that  .Mrs.  Monroe  was 
acting  as  an  agent  for  him,  when  she  sent  for 


TANGLED   THREADS.  153 

Jennie.  Oh,  Lucia!  the  trials  and  temptations 
for  a  girl  in  a  city  like  this  are  just  awful!  " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Lucia,  coldly.  "  If  she 
behaves  herself  there  is  no  more  danger  here 
than  in  her  own  home.  Look  at  me!  T  do  not 
meet  with  any  temptations;  I  believe  I  am  as 
presentable  as  other  girls,  but  there  are  no  plots 
and  counterplots  against  me.  It  is  vanity  that 
causes  all  the  trouble,  Eva,  vanity  and  frivolity. 
A  girl  with  a  high  purpose  in  life  and  a  mind 
above  pleasures  and  amusements,  will  never  come 
to  any  harm." 

"  Well,"  said  Eva,  slowly,  "  I  am  sorry  for  the 
butterflies,  too;  Jennie  has  seen  so  little  of  the 
bright  side  of  life,  that  I  expect  she  was  blinded, 
poor  girl !  I  wish  we  had  looked  after  her  closer. 
She  needed  old  friends  to  protect  her." 

"  Why  did  she  need  them  any  more  than  we 
do?  "  asked  Lucia. 

"  You  have  your  brother,  and  I  —  I  have  Mar 
garet  Holmes,"  answered  Eva. 

"  I  think  you  show  questionable  taste  in  the 
selection  of  your  friends.  There 's  Margaret 
Holmes,  now;  she  is  — 

"  Hush!  "  said  Eva,  rising.     "  I  cannot  hear  a 


1 54  AGAINST   FATE. 

word  against  her,  Lucia,  and  I  must  go  right 
back  to  her.  And,  oh,  do  send  word  to  me  if 
you  hear  anything  of  Jennie.  I  am  going  home 
as  soon  as  Margaret  recovers ;  the  city  stifles  mer 
and  all  I  earn  is  eaten  up  by  expenses,  so  that  at 
the  end  of  a  year  I  should  be  no  better  off  finan 
cially  than  if  I  had  staid  in  Newton.  I  would 
rather  have  only  two  calico  dresses  a  year  there, 
than  silks  and  velvets  here." 

"What  a  strange  girl!"  said  Lucia  to  herself, 
as  Eva  closed  the  hall  door  after  her  and  she 
went  back  to  her  own  cosy  room,  "  I  cannot 
understand  why  those  girls  have  so  much  trouble. 
I  don't  believe  it  is  true  that  shop-girls  have 
peculiar  trials.  And  Jennie  was  not  a  shop-girl, 
but  had  every  chance  to  improve  and  cultivate 
her  mind.  How  could  she  be  so  infatuated  as  to- 
believe  in  that  Boss  Farnham!  Yes,  she  must 
have  been  naturally  bad!  " 

With  these  thoughts,  Lucia  dismissed  the 
subject  and  turned  her  attention  to  the  discovery 
of  what  Philip  II.  did  with  himself  after  his 
wife's  death. 

Calm,  passionless,  ruled  by  her  head  and  not 
by  her  heart,  with  an  intense  self-esteem,  that. 


TANGLED   THREADS.  155 

never  could  be  tempted  to  lower  itself,  how  could 
Lucia  Winne  appreciate  the  sensitive  weakness, 
the  tender,  loving,  trusting  nature  of  another 
woman  ?  She  did  not  crave  love.  At  some  time, 
probably,  a  proper  offer  would  be  made  her,  by 
some  one  she  could  highly  esteem  and  respect, 
and  after  she  should  be  married  decorously,  there 
would  be  time  enough  for  sentiment,  if,  indeed, 
any  such  weakness  was  necessary.  Such  women 
are  invaluable  to  the  world.  In  life  and  in  death 
they  are  eulogized;  their  calm,  philosophical 
natures  create  no  trouble,  and  accept  none.  But 
to  the  wayward,  tortured,  restless  soul  of  the 
average  sinner,  they  are  about  as  soothing  and 
comfortable  as  rocks  of  adamant. 


CHAPTEE  XVII. 

MARGARET'S  STORY. 
"  Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  -weeping." 

HEN  Eva  left  Lucia  she  walked  rapidly 
toward  the  Home,  aware  that  she  had 
been  absent  longer  than  she  had  in 
tended,  and  anxious  lest  Margaret  should  need 
her.  She  hurried  on  until  she  reached  the  door, 
when  she  saw  the  Matron  of  the-  Home  looking 
for  her,  with  eyes  wet  with  tears. 

"Oh,  is  she  worse?  Will  she  die?"  asked 
Eva,  wildly. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  will,"  replied  the  kind- 
hearted  little  woman,  with  whom  Margaret  had 
always  been  a  favorite.  "  Perhaps  that  is  n't  the 
worst  thing  that  could  happen  to  her;  but  it 
does  seem  so  dreadful  to  die,  away  from  home 
and  friends  and  among  strangers.  I  believe  she 
is  an  orphan,  but  there  must  be  somebody  belong 
ing  to  her." 

(156) 


MARGARET'S  STORY.  157 

Eva  hurried  into  the  house,  greatly  alarmed. 
She  had  not  thought  for  a  moment  that  Margaret 

o  o 

would  die.  The  sick  girl  was  raised  on  pillows, 
and  the  curtain  was  drawn  away  from  the  west 
window,  that  she  might  look  on  the  sunset,  the 
golden  light  of  which  flooded  the  room,  the  bed, 
and  the  recumbent  figure  with  a  splendor  of  rose 
and  gold.  A  small  table  with  writing  apparatus 
stood  by  the  bed.  Margaret  looked  better  and 
stronger;  Eva  could  see  no  cause  for  fresh  alarm. 
She  put  her  things  away  and  took  up  her  post 
of  nurse  again,  feeling  physically  invigorated  by 
her  walk,  but  mentally  depressed  by  the  strange 
news  of  Jennie.  She  did  not  intend  to  tell  Mar 
garet,  but  the  sick  girl  saw  that  something  had 
occurred,  and  Eva  told  her  all. 

It  did  not  surprise  her  as  it  had  Eva;  she 
knew  Mrs.  Monroe  and  her  kind,  and  was  prepared 
for  such  a  climax.  When  Eva  had  gone  down 
to  her  tea  and  returned,  Margaret  said,  in  her 
own  natural  voice,  stronger  and  clearer  than  it 
had  been  yet: 

"  I  feel  like  talking  to-night,  Eva.  Lock  the 
door  so  that  we  shall  not  be  disturbed;  now, 
wheel  the  lounge  up  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and 


158  AGAINST   FATE. 

put  on  your  wrapper.  You  can  lie  and  rest 
while  we  talk.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  my  own 
story. 

"  I  was  born  in  Belleville,  a  little  town  in 
Maine;  my  father  was  the  practicing  physician 
of  the  place,  and  he  made  a  comfortable  fortune, 
enough  to  keep  us  all  respectably.  My  own 
mother  was  dead,  but  I  could  not  remember  her, 
and  my  step-mother,  a  good,  kind,  judicious 
woman,  filled  her  place  admirably.  I  never 
could  understand  the  prejudice  against  step 
mothers;  mine  was  the  best  and  truest  friend  I 
ever  had,  and  when  she  died  I  mourned  her  as 
though  she  had  been  mine  by  nature  instead  of 
adoption. 

"  In  one  year  I  lost  her,  my  father,  and  every 
dollar  in  the  world ;  the  last  was  the  result  of  an 
endorsement.  My  elder  and  only  brother,  a  boy 
of  good  impulses  and  kind  heart,  but  easily  led 
by  others,  had  got  into  a  wild  way  of  living,  and 
in  some  manner  became  involved  in  a  disgraceful 
bank  robbery.  His  share  of  the  matter  being 
discovered,  my  father  endorsed  his  note  for  the 
amount ;  the  note  was  never  paid,  and  my  father 
sacrificed  every  dollar  to  meet  the  demand.  He 


MARGARET'S  STORY.  159 

died  shortly  after,  of  a  malignant  fever,  and  the 
mother  soon  followed  him.  It  was  seven  or 
eight  years  ago  that  it  all  happened. 

"  I  was  then  eighteen  years  old,  without  a 
relative  in  this  country;  my  father  was  English, 
and  our  kindred  were  all  beyond  the  sea.  I  came 
with  a  family  to  Chicago,  because  I  was  ac 
quainted  with  them,  and  I  wanted  to  get  away 
from  those  who  knew  of  our  fallen  fortunes.  My 
brother,  Horace,  I  have  never  heard  •  from,  but 
presume  he  went  to  England ;  if  he  ever  visited 
Belleville,  he  could  have  found  no  clue  to  my 
whereabouts,  for  I  was  angry  and  could  not 
tolerate  his  memory,  much  as  wre  had  loved  each 
other  in  childhood.  Ah,  if  the  great  God  should 
deal  with  us  as  we  deal  with  fellow  sinners,  it 
will  go  hard  with  many  of  us  at  the  closing 
account!  There  were  circumstances  in  the  poor 
boy's  life  I  did  not  take  into  consideration.  My 
father  was  wrapped  up  in  his  profession;  my 
brother  had  been  influenced  by  injudicious  friends 
to  dislike  our  step-mother,  and  rebel  against  her 
authority;  I  was  at  school,  and  he  ran  away 
from  home  with  two  other  boys,  the  scapegrace 
sons  of  rich  fathers,  when  only  seventeen  years 


l6o  AGAINST  FATE. 

old.  My  father  felt  his  disgrace  keenly,  and 
would  not  expostulate  with  the  recreant  boy,  or 
try  to  win  him  back;  and  his  bank  exploit  was 
the  last  we  ever  heard  of  him.  But  now  I  must 
tell  you  about  myself.  Give  me  one  spoonful 
from  that  tumbler,  my  lips  are  so  dry. 

"  Child,  I  have  often  wondered  why  God  made 
one  set  of  people  black  and  another  white;  one 
weak  and  another  strong!  Perhaps  I  shall  know 
soon,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  the  knowledge  will 
compensate  for  a  wasted  life.  I  began  fair 
enough;  perhaps  I  was  too  strong  in  my  own 
strength.  I  worked  hard  for  meagre  wages,  and 
kept  my  honesty  and  integrity,  but  demanded 
that  the  world  should  appreciate  both.  The  world 
just  rolled  its  chariot  wheels  over  me.  A  few 
good  people  held  out  dry  theological  husks  for 
my  moral  digestion,  but  society  ignored  me;  I 
had  culture,  but  not  wealth.  I  craved  pleasure, 
not  sinful  pleasure,  but  just  the  gladsome  side 
of  life.  Well  —  it  must  be  told  —  my  employer 
offered  me  all ;  not  in  so  many  words ;  not  by  any 
base  contract;  but  by  little  acts  of  attention  and 
kindness,  and  by  making  my  work  less;  by  draw 
ing  me  gradually  into  the  social  charm  of  his 


MARGARET'S  STORY.  161 

own  atmosphere;  by  cruel  and  false  sophistries. 
I  was  too  blind  and  vain  to  read  the  truth.  A 
few  months  I  was  his  favorite,  and  was  envied, 
hated,  and  shunned  by  the  people  among  whom 
I  moved.  Oblivious  to  taunts  and  jeers,  I 
spent  my  days  in  the  store,  for  appearance 
sake,  but  my  nights  were  devoted  to  pleasure 
seeking  and  such  amusements  as  are  free  to 
the  public. 

"  Then  came  an  awakening  that  rent  soul  and 
body.  Months  of  shame,  and  darkness,  and 
anguish  ensued,  but  my  soul  came  out  of  the 
flame  purified.  I  repented  in  dust  and  ashes.  I 
left  all  my  old  associations  and  stood,  clothed 
and  in  my  right  mind,  on  the  threshold  of  a  new 
life.  Every  door  was  then  shut  in  my  face  except 
that  of  the  Magdalen  Asylum.  I  went  back  to 
the  man  who  had  ruined  my  life  —  the  man  from 
whom  I  have  saved  you  —  and  I  demanded  of 
him  the  only  compensation  he  could  give  me, 
the  right  to  earn  my  honest  bread  at  his  hands. 
I  think  I  frightened  him ;  he  gave  me  the  place 
with  the  same  pay  that  any  other  clerk"  would 
have  for  the  same  work.  It  was  part  of  mj 
punishment  to  stand  there  and  endure  the  sneers 
li 


1 62  AGAINST  FATE. 

of  those  who  knew  me;  to  see  the  hideousness 
of  my  sin  as  they  saw  it. 

"  Child,  M7hen  yon  came  something  drew  me  to 
you.  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that  I  have  been  per 
mitted  to  watch  over  you.  I  have  told  yon  my 
story  as  a  warning.  Be  thankful  for  the  dry 
bread  of  an  honest  life,  for  the  homeliest,  nar 
rowest  path  in  which  ever  woman  walked,  for  the 
garb  that  will  make  you  a  fright  in  its  plainness, 
rather  than  for  the  purple  and  fine  linen  for' 
which  you  must  sell  your  birthright.  Eva, 
darling,  you  will  not  love  me  less,  now  that  you 
know  what  my  life  has  been,  now  that  you  under 
stand  the  manifold  temptations  that  crowd  the 
life  of  a  young  and  thoughtless  girl,  who  must 
cope,  single-handed,  with  the  Devil  of  Sensu 
ality?" 

Margaret  Holmes  lay  back  exhausted  on  her 
pillow,  and  Eva  dropped  the  invigorating  cordial 
between  her  pale  lips,  till  life  and  strength 
seemed  again  to  return.  Yery  lovingly,  too,  she 
kissed  her,  uttering  sweet,  soothing  words  of 
hope  and  encouragement.  Margaret  smiled 
faintly,  and  drew  Eva's  fair  head  down  on  the 
pillow. 


MARGARET'S  STORY.  163 

"  How  long,  how  dark  the  way  has  been!  But 
it  seems  lighter  now;  where  I  failed  once  I 
might  fail  again.  Eva,  are  you  warm,  are  you 
quite  easy,  dear? " 

"  Quite.  And  oh,  so  happy,  Margaret,  because 
you  are  better.  You  will  soon  be  well  again." 

"Yes,"  said  Margaret;  "very,  very  soon.  And 
now,  dear  child,  try  to  sleep." 

It  did  not  need  much  trying  on  Eva's  part. 
The  weight  of  anxiety  was  lifted  from  her  heart, 
and  she  fell  asleep  in  Margaret's  arms.  The 
older  woman  did  not  sleep  so  soon ;  the  night- 
lamp,  burning  low,  cast  fantastic  shadows  about 
the  room,  and  it  seemed  to  her  excited  fancy  that 
they  took  upon  them  a  weird  resemblance  to 
undefined  forms,  that  came  near  and  looked  at 
her  and  wrung  their  shadowy  hands.  And  then 
the  light  dropped  lower,  and  the  pale,  yellow 
moonlight  filled  the  room,  and  Margaret's  soul 
was  filled  with  a  strange,  ineffable  peace  and 
sweetness.  Her  weary  eyes  closed  on  all  the 
dim  outlines,  the  weird  and  shifting  shadows, 
the  vexing,  perplexing  mysteries  of  life,  and 
with  her  head  bowed  upon  Eva's,  she,  too,  slept. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  Eva  felt  herself 


164 


AGAINST   FATE. 


shaken,  and  aroused  from  sweet  sleep  and 
pleasant  dreams.  The  Matron  was  bending  over 
her,  crying.  She  turned  quickly  and  looked  at 
Margaret ;  her  face  was  white  and  peaceful.  She 
was  still  sleeping! 


CHAPTEK  XVIII. 

OVER! 

"Foolish!  most  women  are  that,  you  know. 
Fond  and  foolish;  God  makes  them  so." 

HEN  Jennie  Armstrong  left  Mrs.  Mon 
roe's  inhospitable  roof  she  was  in  a 
half  unconscious  state  of  mind,  so  over 
whelmed  was  she  by  her  sudden  and  unexpected 
discharge.  What  had  she  done,  or  failed  to  do, 
that  had  aroused  Mrs.  Monroe's  wrath  in  such  a 
violent  manner?  She  walked  along  the  streets 
like  one  in  a  dream,  and  it  was  all  she  could  do 
to  keep  from  a  violent  and  childlike  fit  of  crying. 
She  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  Winne's, 
determined  she  would  ask  them  to  receive  her  for 
this  night  only,  and  in  the  morning  she  would 
go  back  to  her  home;  back  to  poverty  and  obscu 
rity.  .  It  was,  at  least,  better  than  this  homeless- 
ness.  All  the  faces  that  looked  at  her  swam 
(165) 


1 66  AGAINST   FATE. 

through  a  sea  of  tears.  A  stronger  nature 
would  have  been  nerved  to  .bravery  and  indepen 
dence  by  such  injustice,  but  she  was  as  helpless 
in  these  wide,  noisy  streets  as  any  child.  She 
was  not  even  sure  that  she  knew  -the  way  to  Mr. 
Winne's;  the  houses  loomed  up  like  giants,  in 
the  twilight,  and  the  streets  seemed  to  wander 
and  mix  themselves  up  inextricably.  A  tear  fell 
and  rested  on  her  little  cold  hands;  another  and 
another  followed.  She  could  not  see  her  way 
now  for  the  hot,  blinding  shower;  she  stumbled 
at  a  stone  coping  and  would  have  fallen,  had  not 
some  one  caught  her.  An  arm  was  extended, 
awkwardly  but  surely,  and  a  cheery  voice  cried : 

"  Why,  you  poor  child !  out  alone  at  this  time 
of  day,  or  night,  rather,  and  crying,  too?  Why, 
what  has  happened,  you  poor,  forlorn,  little  girl! 
Are  you  lost  in  the  streets? "  Then,  as  both  her 
little  cold  hands  were  gathered  into  his  warm 
ones,  the  rescuer  murmured:  "Jennie,  darling, 
what  is  it?" 

The  arch  hypocrite!  how  dared  he! 

Jennie  gave  one  look,  to  assure  herself  that  it 
was  indeed  Ross  Farnham,  and  then  she  threw 
herself,  recklessly,  foolishly,  but  oh,  so  blissfully, 


OVER.  167 

into  his  arms,  and  fell  into  convulsions  of  crying. 

"My  darling!  my  darling!"  he  whispered  the 
words  .over  and  over  to  her,  and  then  told  her, 
soothingly,  that  his  carriage  was  near.  He  had 
seen  her  in  passing,  and  knew  the  forlorn,  droop 
ing  figure;  and  he  would  take  her  wherever  she 
wanted  to  go,  only,  first,  she  must  accompany 
him  and  have  a  warm,  comfortable  supper,  and 
tell  him  all  about  her  trouble,  and  how  it  had 
happened. 

Now,  why  did  not  her  mother's  God  send  one 
of  His  ministering  angels  to  save  her;  to  whisper 
one  word  of  warning,  to  rescue  this  innocent 
soul  from  the  tempter's  power,  to  show  her  how 
dark  and  deep  and  awful  was  that  chasm  on 
whose  flower- wreathed  brink  she  stood?  Answer 
me,  theologians,  who  reason  that 

"With  Adam's  fall 
We  sinned  all." 

Why  did  the  tempter  prevail? 

Her  mother  was  praying  for  her  ;  her  poor 
mother,  who  had  sacrificed  so  much  in  parting 
from  her!  This  girl's  soul  was,  of  itself,  pure 
and  stainless;  she  had  no  conception  of  sin,  a& 
yet;  she  was  going  to  her  doom  with  the  blind 


1 68  AGAINST  FATE. 

faitli  and  trust  of  a  loving  child,  as  thousands 
of  innocent  girls  have  gone  before  her,  as  thous 
ands  of  innocent  girls  will  follow!  And  jet 
the  Christian  says,  God  lives! 

He  does!  Stronger  than  sin,  He  shall  ulti 
mately  rescue  every  soul  from  its  bondage;  infi 
nite  in  existence,  He  shall  draw  all  essence  of 
being  to  Him,  and  in  that  gracious  Presence  it 
shall  grow  and  live  forever  and  ever. 

I  do  not  know  why  I  stopped  to  say  this, 
unless  the  theme  inspired  me.  I  dislike  moral 
sandwiches ;  they  are  not  always  palatable. 

Jennie  followed  Boss'  Farnham  very  willingly, 
and  it  needs  no  brilliant  imagination  to  realize 
the  transition  from  the  cold,  shivering,  lonesome 
streets  at  nightfall,  to  the  warm,  comfortable, 
lighted  carriage,  that  would  speedily  bear  them 
to  cheeriness  and  safety.  They  drove  to  a  popular 
and  fashionable  restaurant,  and  were  soon  seated 
in  a  luxurious  room,  at  a  table  spread  with  a 
delicious  supper.  The  anchorite  may  turn  up 
his  holy  nose  at  creature  comforts,  but  I  never 
yet  saw  a  famished  sinner  that  could  not  be 
brought  to  his  knees  quicker  by  a  hot  meal,  or  a 
smoking  draught,  than  by  any  amount  of  tracts 


OVER.  169 

and  bibles  peddled  out  by  the  spiritual-minded 
agent  of  salvation.  Jennie's  spirits  rose  with 
the  warmth  and  food :  she  had  eaten  nothing  that 

'  O 

day.  The  red  came  into  her  cheeks,  and  she 
recovered  her  old,  gay,  insouciant  manner. 

Ross  Farnham  had  been  watching  her  with 
that  tender  solicitude,  which  almost  any  man 
can  assume  at  will  toward  almost  any  woman, 
always  excepting  those  who  have  a  right  to  it. 
For  the  time  being  he  loved,  idolized,  worshiped 
her,  and  would  have  killed  any  man  who  dared 
to  dispute  it.  Looking  at  her,  and  thinking  this, 
he  touched  the  bell. 

"  Champagne,"  he  said  to  the  waiter;  "  a  quart 
bottle."  And  he  named  a  favorite  brand. 

Jennie  stopped  him  peremptorily.  "  No,  no," 
she  said;  "  I  must  not  drink  wine;  it  would  not 
be  right.  Indeed,  indeed,  it  would  not." 

"Little  innocent!"  laughed  Ross.  "Cham 
pagne  is  not  wine;  it  is  nothing  more  than  cider. 
Why,  you  could  drink  it  like  water,  and  it  would 
never  hurt  you.  See  here,  you  shall  fill  your 
glass  with  raisins  and  watch  them  bead  and 
sparkle  and  plunge  in  a  sea  of  diamonds.  There 
is  no  harm  in  it,  darling.  You  can  trust  me." 


I/O  AGAINST   FATE. 

And  no  fire  came  down  from  Heaven  to  con 
sume  him! 

Jennie  resisted  bravely.  She  belonged  'to  a 
family  that  believed  in  moderate  drinking,  and 
unfortunately  had  not  instilled  that  horror  of 
intoxicating  liquors  that  is  a  principle  in  itself. 
She  had  never  tasted  wine,  and  it  seemed  an 
unwomanly  thing  to  do. 

"Oh,  Ross,  drink  it  for  me;  indeed,  I  cannot 
bear  to  taste  it.  Let  me  play  with  mine.  What 
a  lovely,  lovely  color!  Amber,  isn't  it?  How 
pure  and  sparkling!  " 

"  Jennie,"  said  Eoss  Farnham,  in  his  danger 
ously  seductive  tones.  "  Do  you  love  me, 
darling?" 

"  God  knows  I  do,"  answered  the  girl,  with 
unwonted  earnestness.  The  smile  faded  from 
her  face,  and  great  tears  stood  in  her  loving 
eyes. 

"  Do  you  love  me  better  than  any  one  in  the 
world?" 

"Better!     Yes!  oh,  yes!" 

"Better  than  father  or  mother,  friends  or 
kindred?" 

"Yes,  Ross;  I  do." 


OVER.'  171 

"  Say  it  after  me,  better  than  father  or  mother, 
friends  or  kindred." 

And  she  repeated  the  sentence,  word  for  word. 

"  And  now,  darling,"  taking  her  wine-glass  in 
his  hand,  "  if  you  love  me,  pledge  me  with  this ; 
you  will  prove  your  loyalty,  my  own." 

It  was  done!  She  lifted  the  golden  liquid 
and  touched  it  to  the  tender  chrism  of  her  lips, 
and  then  set  the  empty  glass  on  the  table  before 
her. 

Ross  Farnham  took  a  shining  diamond  circlet 
from  his  vest  pocket,  and  slipped  it  on  the  dainty 
white  forefinger,  guarding  it  there  with  a  plain, 
heavy,  gold  band. 

"  Mine!  "  he  whispered,  fondly,  gathering  the 
girl  in  his  arms. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

THE   RETUEN   HOME. 
"  The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking  off." 

HE  train  upon  which  Eva  Bartlett  was 
returning  to  her  home  in  Newton, 
stopped  within  a  station  of  that  place, 
for  dinner.  ,  She  was  weary  and  lonely,  and  gladly 
left  the  close  cars  for  the  hurried  meal.  She  had 
changed  somewhat  in  appearance,  was  thinner 
and  paler,  the  result  of  watching  by  the  sick-bed 
of  her  friend.  It  was  for  Margaret,  Eva  wore 
such  deep  black,  purchased  out  of  respect  to  her 
memory,  and  from  real,  true  affection,  not  simply 
because  she  inherited  her  friend's  savings. 

She  returned  to  the  car,  feeling  rested  and 
refreshed  by  the  change;  as  she  stood  on  the 
platform  she  noticed  a  feeble  looking  man,  who 
gazed  about  him  as  if  uncertain  of  his  surround 
ings.  Something  in  his  appearance  struck  her 


THE   RETURN   HOME.  173 

as  being  familiar,  and  as  he  turned  and  looked 
at  her  she  recognized  him  fully,  and  started  in 
dismay.  It  was  Jennie  Armstrong's  father. 
Always  retiring  and  unsocial  in  his  manner,  he 
had  never  been  a  favorite  with  the  young  people, 
or  noticed  them  much,  but  now,  as  he  saw  and 
recognized  Eva,  he  sprang  eagerly  toward  her, 
and  his  air  of  dejection  gave  way  to  one  of  eager 
enquiry. 

Eva's  first  thought  was  to  evade  him,  and  pass 
into  the  car  as  if  unconscious  of  his  presence; 
but  he  was  too  intent  on  his  own  purpose  to 
notice  this,  and  following  her,  with  a  quick, 
nervous  movement,  he  laid  a  thin,  cold  hand  on 
her  shoulder  just  as  she  reached  her  seat.  She 
turned,  and  saw  a  white,  worn  face,  aged  and 
wrinkled  by  despair,  and  sealed  with  the  sign 
manual  of  death,  yet  from  which  a  longing  hope 
seemed  to  flash  the  intelligence  of  a  soul's 
anguish.  Eva  shook  hands  with  the  poor  father, 
with  her  eyes  averted  that  he  might  not  see  the 
tears  in  them.  He  was  the  first  to  speak;  she 
could  not. 

"  So  you  have  come  back  again  ? "  he  said,  with 
a  vacant  attempt  to  smile  that  was  pitiful  to  see. 


174  AGAINST    FATE. 

"  And  now,  tell  me  "•  -  his  voice  sank  to  a  fierce 
whisper,  and  he  grasped  her  arm  till  she  writhed 
with  the  pain  —  "  where  is  Jennie? " 

To  have  saved  her  life,  at  that  moment  Eva 
could  not  have  spoken  a  word,  neither  could  she 
look  at  the  miserable  father ;  she  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  car  window,  that  looked  wet  and 
blurred  as  in  a  rain  storm,  and  yet  the  sun  shone. 

"Where  is  Jennie?"  he  repeated  earnestly. 
"  You  must  know  something  about  her.  Is  she 
dead?" 

"Yes!"  Eva  was  driven  now  to  desperation. 
"  Yes,  Mr.  Armstrong,  she  is  dead;  dead  to  you 
and  to  all  of  us  who  loved  her! "  And  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  wept. 

"Oh,  my  God!  then  it  is  true,  it  is  true," 
groaned  the  heart-broken  man.  "  May  my 
bitterest  curse  — 

"Hush!"  Eva  laid  her  hand  upon  his  lips. 
"  Do  not  curse  your  child,  Mr.  Armstrong.  Try 
and  think  the  best  of  her  that  you  can;  we  all 
believe  that  it  was  the  cruelest  treachery  that 
betrayed  her  into  that  man's  hands.  She  must 
have  a  place  in  your  heart,  when  — 

"  You   do   not   know   what   you    are    talking 


THE   RETURN   HOME.  175 

about,"  interrupted  Mr.  Armstrong,  harshly. 
"  It  will  kill  her  mother;  she  has  added  the 
vilest  disgrace  to  our  poverty ;  we  have,  at  least, 
been  respectable,  but  we  can  never  hold  our  heads 
up  again.  Oh,  if  we  could  have  buried  her  in 
decency  and  honor,  though  in  a  pine  coffin  and  a 
Potter's  field,  it  would  have  been  happiness." 

The  father  broke  out  into  the  fiercest  invec 
tives  against  the  destroyer  of  his  child,  and  Eva 
sat  frightened  and  silent,  until  the  cars  reached 
Newton,  and  she  saw  her  mother  and  the  child 
ren  waiting  for  her.  At  another  time  she  would 
have  felt  some  consequence  from  the  change  in 
her  circumstances,  perhaps,  and  realized  that  she 
was  now  able  to  maintain  her  family  in  comfort, 
but  all  thoughts  of  herself  were  merged  in  sym 
pathy  for  those  unhappy  parents.  As  she  stepped 
on  the  platform,  a  sad,  white  face  caught  her 
attention ;  to  avoid  those  wistful,  agonized  eyes 
she  turned  quickly  away  and  drew  her  mother 
and  the  delighted  children  one  side. 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Armstrong,"  she  whispered  to  her 
mother;  "  I  would  not  see  her  for  the  world. 
Is  n't  it  awful,  that  look  on  her  face? " 

"  She  would  not  see  you,"  replied  her  mother. 


176  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  She  has  not  spoken  to  any  one  since  the  news 
came.  Mr.  Armstrong  went  up  to  meet  you  first, 
Eva.  Is  it  true?" 

"  Yes !  but  do  not  talk  of  it  here,  before  the 
children.  I  can  hardly  believe  it  myself.  Oh, 
mother,  I  could  have  told  him  of  her  death  so 
much  easier." 

Mr.  Armstrong  met  his  wife  and  drew  her  arm 
through  his. 

"  Did  you  walk  down,  Mary? "  he  asked,  in  a 
steady  voice. 

"Yes,  Richard.  This  is  not  all  you  have  to 
say;  where  is  Jennie?  Where  is  our  child?" 

"  Never  speak  her  name  to  me  again,  Mary. 
We  have  no  child!  our  children  are  in  Heaven. 
She  —  oh,  God!  it  cannot  be  true."  And  the 
man  shook  with  the  agony  of  the  thought. 

His  wife  looked  up  into  his  face.  All  light 
of  intelligence  had  died  out  of  hers. 

"  Richard,"  she  asked  presently,  in  a  low  voice, 
"is  it  true;  is  Jennie  lost?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  true !  all  true !  Did  I  not  say  you 
should  never  mention  her  name?  May  the  curses 
of—  " 

"Hush,  Richard!     You  must  not  curse  our 


THE   RETURN   HOME.  177 

child.  Dear  little  tiling!  do  you  remember  how 
sweet  and  pretty  she  was?  Yes,  yes;  I  will  find 
her  again;  she  is  not  lost  to  her  mother." 

They  walked  the  rest  of  the  way  home  in 
silence.  At  the  house  door  Mr.  Armstrong  left 
his  wife  to  grope  her  way  in  alone;  it  was  not 
dark,  but  she  walked  like  a  dreaming  person, 
and  looking  after  her,  he  saw  her  stagger  as  she 
entered  the  door.  Such  a  look  as  came  over  his 
face  then,  as  it  paled  with  the  white  heat  of  a 
man's  despair;  all  the  weakness  and  uncertainty 
Qf  his  life  seemed  lifted  from  him  in  that 
moment. 

He  went  into  the  rickety  old  barn,  and  pulled 
the  door  together  after  him.  Above  the  window 
on  two  rests,  hung  an  old  gun,  a  true  shooter,  as 
he  knew,  for  it  had  brought  down  many  a  dinner 
for  them.  As  he  lifted  his  hand  to  take  it  down 
his  eye  fell  on  a  little,  dust-covered  book,  lying 
on  the  top  of  the  low  window.  He  took  it  and 
looked  at  it  a  moment,  with  white,  compressed 
lips ;  then  he  opened  it,  and  saw  her  name.  With 
a  sullen,  smothered  oath,  he  hurled  it  from  him, 
and  as  it  struck  the  floor  with  a  dull  thud,  he 
muttered  fiercely: 
12 


1 78 


AGAINST   FATE. 


"  False  to  her  mother  —  false  to  herself — false 
to  God!  I  have  lived  too  long;  let  this  end  it." 

A  moment  later  there  was  a  loud  report. 

Oh,  coward!  who  could  leave  a  weak  woman 
to  bear  a  double  burden  of  grief  and  shame, 
while  you  slept  in  a  dastard's  grave!  Was  it 
from  you  the  daughter  inherited  the  weakness 
of  loving  too  well?  Was  it  the  sin  of  the  father 
visited  upon  the  child? 


CHAPTEK  XX. 


REAPING    TPIE    REWARD. 

"  Only  —  O  God !  O  God !  to  cry  for  bread 
And  get  a  stone!  Daily  to  lay  my  head 
Upon  a  bosom  where  the  old  love 's  dead." 

T  was  a  beautiful  Spring  day,  and  the 
streets  of  Chicago  were  crowded  with 
a  throng  of  people  —  men.  intent  on 
business;  women,  intent  on  pleasure;  with  an 
undercurrent  of  struggling  humanity  of.  either 
sex.  The  stores  \vere  gay  with  Spring  goods, 
and  the  fashionable  resorts  were  surrounded  by 
elegant  carriages,  from  which  well-dressed  ladies 
descended,  comfortably  and  luxuriously,  by  the 
aid  of  sleek  coachmen. 

It  was  matinee  day  at  the  theatres;  at  the 
prominent  one  they  were  playing  "  Camille," 
and  a  popular  star  had  attracted  all  classes  thither. 
The  house  was  crowded;  virtue  and  vice  outbid 

each  other.     Even  the  boxes,  those  bete  noirs  of 

(179) 


l8o  AGAINST   FATE. 

theatrical  managers,  were  all  taken.  In  one  of 
those  boxes  sat  a  young  and  beautiful  woman, 
who,  dressed  in  the  height  of  elegant  fashion, 
was  the  attraction  of  all  eyes;  she  looked  like  a 
queen  of  society,  except  that  she  was  alone  and 
unattended.  She  had  occupied  that  same  box  a 
number  of  times  lately,  and  the  elegance  of  her 
costume  had  not  failed  to  arouse  the  admiration 
and  envy  of  every  woman  who  saw  it.  She  was 
never  overdressed;  there  was  not  the  slightest 
shade  of  over-color,  not  a  flower  or  ribbon  too 
many;  her  dress  was  a  combination  of  silk  and 
velvet,  exquisitely  fitting  her  slender  form.  The 
hand  that  held  the  gold  and  pearl  lorgnette 
was  faultlessly  gloved;  the  one  that  lay  idly 
in  her  lap  revealed  a  diamond  that  shone  like 
a  star. 

It  was  not  alone  her  elegant  toilette  that  drew 
attention  to  her,  but  her  subtle,  fascinating- 
beauty,  which  was  heightened,  not  marred,  by 
the  shadow  of  pensiveness.  It  was  a  fresh-tinted, 
girlish  beauty,  without  any  hard  lines ;  there  was 
enough  of  character  to  reveal  a  thinking  soul 
beneath,  and  a  charming  air  of  culture  and 
refinement  to  redeem  it  from  mere  prettiness. 


REAPING  THE    REWARD.  l8l 

Over  it  all  rested  a  shade  of  melancholy;  the 
dark  eyes  had  a  wistful,  weary,  troubled  look, 
and  the  delicate,  rosebud  mouth  was  drooping 
and  sorrowful! 

Mrs.  Ross  Farnham !  Called  so  from  courtesy 
by  the  men  of  his  set,  and  scorned  and  spurned 
by  the  women !  As  pure  in  heart  as  any  young 
wife,  yet  an  object  of  contempt  to  the  man  who 
had  perilled  his  soul  to  ruin  her,  and  who  had 
wearied  of  her  in  a  few  short  months. 

Yes,  Jennie  was  hovering  on  the  border  land 
of  sin.  It  was  very  pleasant  at  first,  when  she 
was  living  in  the  rapture  of  a  first  love,  with 
conscience,  remorse,  memory,  all  stifled  in  the 
rose-colored  atmosphere,  drowned  in  costly 
draughts  of  pleasure.  There  was  no  time  to 
think,  no  way  to  escape  while  love  stood  sentinel 
at  the  door.  For  a  while  the  world  seemed  well 
lost  to  Jennie? 

She  had  not  heard  from  either  father  or 
mother  as  yet;  she  was  not  surprised  that  they 
had  cast  her  off,  when  at  times  she  fully  realized 
what  she  had  done.  She  had  written  a  few 
hasty,  penitent  words,  and  Ross  had  taken  them 
to  the  post  office;  but  they  were  never  answered. 


1 82  AGAINST    FATE. 

How  could  they  be,  when  they  were  never 
received  ? 

Then  she  had  sought  out  the  hospital  where 
Reuben  Harlow  still  languished  from  his  wound; 
but  he  would  not  see  her.  He  was  too  ill,  the 
nurses  said,  when  her  name  was  taken  in.  She 
sent  him  some  rare  flowers,  and  in  the  centre  of 
the  basket  hid  a  tiny  note,  begging  piteously  for 
some  word  of  her  dear  mother.  The  sick  man 
was  asleep  when  the  flowers  came;  his  old  mother 
watched  beside  him,  holding  the  flowers  on  her 
lap  against  the  time  of  his  awaking.  When  he 
roused  from  the  short  sleep  in  which  he  found 
occasional  brief  rest  from  the  pain  of  his  wounded 
lungs,  he  murmured  a  name  faintly: 

"Jennie!  Jennie,  darling!  Is  it  you?" 

Then  he  awoke  fully  and  saw  the  flowers. 

"Take  them  away,"  he  said,  sternly;  "throw 
them  in  the  street!  I  thought  I  was  home  again, 
and  she  was  there,  with  her  wicked  beauty  and 
her  soft  smiles,  and  her  fondness,  betraying  and 
deceiving!  But  what  am  I  saying?  She  could 
not  help  it,  poor  child;  fate  was  against  her. 
But  throw  the  flowers  away,  mother;  they  would 
kill  me!" 


REAPING  THE   REWARD.  183 

So  her  pleading  little  appeal  was  cast  aside, 
unnoticed,  and  hearing  no  word  from  it,  she 
thought,  sadly,  "  Reuben  hates  me,  and  no  won 
der!" 

But  it  had  not  mattered  so  much  then;  she 
had  Ross'  love,  and  was  not  that  compensation 
enough  for  putting  her  soul  in  peril  and  losing 
all  her  friends? 

Jennie  gave  the  great  world  no  chance  to  snub 
her  with  its  jeers  and  frowns;  she  walked  alone. 
Once  she  met  Mr.  "Winne  and  Lucia  face  to  face; 
she  was  so  glad  to  see  one  from  the  old  life  that 
she  stopped  before  she  thought.  Could  she  ever 
forget  with  what  scorn  Mr.  Winne  drew  his  sister 
away!  How  thankful  she  was  that  they  could 
not  see  the  hot  blood  dye  her  cheeks  and  fore 
head  after  they  had  passed,  and  then  she  had 
swept  on,  velvet-dressed,  lace-crowned,  and  beau 
tiful,  a  target  for  the  impertinent  admiration  of 
men  and  the  gratuitous  insolence  of  women. 

Was  she  happy?  No,  no;  a  thousand  times, 
no!  She  was  walking  a  delirious  measure  to  the 
strains  of  enchanted  music;  her  senses  were 
captivated  and  conscience  slept.  It  needed  but 
a  touch  to  arouse  her,  and  a  single  tear  of 


1 84  AGAINST   FATE. 

contrition  would  forever  dissolve  her  pearl  of 
love. 

She  was  conscious,  on  this  day  at  the  theatre, 
of  living  in  a  world  alone.  Helen  Stearns,  the 
woman  in  whose  care  Ross  had  placed  her,  had 
no  reason  to  like  her,  and  there  was  nothing  in 
common  between  them.  With  those  like  herself 
she  would  not  associate;  with  the  respectable 
and  virtuous  she  could  not.  Somehow,  she 
was  weary  of  it  all.  She  had  sold  herself  for 
love,  and  only  golden  fetters  remained.  She 
clasped  her  hands  desperately  above  the  gold 
and  pearl  opera-glass,  and  looked  about  the 
house. 

Fashionable  young  men  —  rich  loafers  —  had 
dropped  in  to  note  who  was  present,  and  leaned, 
kid-gloved  and  moustached,  about  the  doors, 
commenting  rudely  upon  the  beauty  of  "  Mrs. 
Farnham,"  as  they  superciliously  styled  her. 
She  could  not  hear  them,  but  she  noted  the 
glances  they  exchanged,  and  felt  more  than  ever 
her  isolated  position.  Why  was  not  Ross  there 
to  protect  her,  for  at  least  there  was  protection 
from  insult  in  his  presence;  and  then  she  recalled 
the  fact  that  he  was  seldom  with  her  in  those 


REAPING   THE    REWARD.  185 

days.  The  inevitable  end  was  coining,  and  this 
was  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

She  turned  her  attention  to  the  play,  but  it 
was  not  diverting;  the  stage  Camille  was  apos 
trophizing  the  children  from  the  window,  to 
which,  in  mortal  weariness  and  weakness,  she 
had  dragged  herself.  It  was  the  most  touching 
scene  in  the  drama.  Jennie  feared  she  should 
cry,  and  would  not  listen;  so,  while  all  were 
intensely  regarding  the  stage  Magdalen,  the  real 
one,  gathered  up  her  luxurious  wrappings,  and 
passed  out.  It  was  only  a  few  paces  to  her  car 
riage;  the  coachman  held  the  door  open  with  the 
utmost  respect,  and  Jennie,  placing  one  dainty 
foot  upon  the  step,  was  about  to  enter,  when  a 
hand,  light  as  a  snow-flake,  fell  upon  her 
.shoulder. 

She  turned  hastily,  with  something  of  a  ner 
vous  shiver,  and  an  uncanny  tremor  ran  through 
her  frame,  as  though  a  spirit  in  passing  had 
touched  her!  Pshaw!  there  was  nothing  to  be 
frightened  at  —  only  an  old  beggar  woman, 
ragged  and  bent, "who  peered  into  her  face  with 
eager  persistence.  Yet  it  was  not  an  ordinary 
beggar,  for  she  did  not  ask  alms;  she  only  smiled 


1 86 


AGAINST   FATE. 


and  muttered,  and  shook  her  head.  When 
Jennie  turned  at  her  touch,  the  woman  scanned 
each  feature  closely,  passed  her  thin  hands  over 
the  velvet  of  her  dress,  and  asked  in  a  weird 
whisper: 

"Have  you  seen  Jennie?     She  is  lost!  " 
The  coachman  thrust  her  away  and  helped  his 
mistress  into  her  carriage,  where  she  sank  uncon 
scious  on  the  cushions.     She  had  stood  face  to 
face  with  her  mother! 


CHAPTEK   XXI. 


LOST    AND    FOUND. 

HE  was  only  a  poor  old  woman,  sick, 
weak,  and  crazed  ;  the  boys  jeered  at 
her  on  the  street,  and  walked  in  rough 
and  ragged  procession  after  her.  Occasionally, 
when  out  of  sight  of  a  policeman,  they  threw 
sticks  and  stones  at  her,  which  wounded  the  poor 
old  creature's  limbs  and  brought  tears  into  her 
weak,  faded  eyes;  but  she  never  resisted  them  or 
made  a  complaint,  she  only  walked  on  and  on 
wearily,  always  in  a  circle  of  streets.  She  passed 
by  men  and  boys  with  compressed,  close-shut 
lips,  but  every  young  girl  she  met  she  would  try 
to  stop,  and  would  cling  to  her,  and  beseech  her, 
in  such  a  pitiful  tone: 

"Have  you  seen  my  child?  Have  you  seen 
Jennie?  Oh,  you  must  have  seen  her!  Let  me 
tell  you  how  she  looks.  She's  so  pretty;  oh, 

such  lovely  dimples,  and  a  face  like  a  baby's; 

(187) 


1 88  AGAINST   FATE. 

arid  oil!  the  smallest,  prettiest  hands,  and  such 
a  gay,  happy  smile.  I  tell  you,  you  must  have 
seen  her;  she's  lost!  Do  you  hear?  I  must 
find  her  —  I  must  take  her  home  to  her  father — 
he  's  waiting  for  her.  She  's  lost,  but  I  'rn  her 
mother —  I  '11  find  her.  Ah,  dear  lady,  help  me 
to  find  her.  I  tell  you  she  is  lost!  lost!  lost!  " 

Her  voice,  as  she  went  on,  would  gradually 
rise  to  a  shriek,  and  she  would  beat  the  air  with 
her  pale  hands,  and  then  the  grim  guardians  of  the 
peace  would  drag  her  away  and  lock  her  up  in  a 
cell  of  the  station  house,  where  she.  would  stretch 
her  thin  hands  through  the  iron  gratings,  and 
chant  the  same  weird  story  to  every  passer-by, 
till  the  officials  wearied  of  her,  and  finding  her 
friendless  and  penniless,  turned  her  out  again. 

She  was  worn,  almost  as  thin  as  a  shadow;  her 
scant  gray  hair  floated  over  her  shoulders  like 
spectral  fantasies  of  fashion,  and  her  few  ragged 
clothes  were  pathetic  in  their  appeal  for  sympa 
thy.  As  she  walked  she  constantly  muttered  and 
shook  her  head,  and  moaned  to  herself.  She  had 
traveled  many  miles  that  weary  day,  following 
some  false  clue  of  her  crazed  brain,  when  she 
laid  her  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  beautiful 


LOST   AND   FOUND.  189 

woman  stepping  into  the  carriage  in  front  of  the 
pretty  theatre;  as  the  lady  hurried  away  and  left 
her,  she  turned,  not  more  disappointed  than 
usual,  but  with  some  new  feeling,  that  was  not 
cold,  nor  hunger,  nor  disappointment,  but  was  a 
strange  and  painful  perplexity.  She  dwelt  upon 
that  meeting,  upon  that  beautiful,  horror-stricken 
face,  which  only  flashed  upon  her's  for  a  moment, 
and  she  walked  on  until  exhausted,  and  then  sat 
down  on  the  steps  of  a  clothing  store.  The  pro 
prietor,  a  dark,  heavy-browed  man,  came  out  and 
spurned  her  with  his  foot;  she  rose  meekly,  and 
wandered  off  until  she  came  to  a  street  where 
there  were  dwellings ;  at  the  basement  of  one  she 
stopped  and  asked  for  something  to  eat ;  the  boy 
who  opened  the  door  set  the  dog  upon  her !  But 
at  the  next  house  a  good,  kindly  Irish  girl  — 
God  bless  her! — took  her  into  the  kitchen,  and 
set  her  down  to  a  warm  supper. 

"Poor  innocent,"  said  the  kind  girl;  "  shure 
it 's  starved,  and  cold,  and  wretched  intirely,  ye 
are,  and  the  wits  wanting,  too!  Holy  Mother 
presarve  ye !  It 's  a  hard  world  for  the  like  of 
yees! " 

The  supper  gave  her  strength  to  move  on,  and 


190  AGAINST   FATE. 

she  wandered  back  again  into  the  dense  heart  of 
the  city,  until  she  found  herself  at  the  beautiful 
theatre  once  more.  It  was  all  sparkle  and  light; 
all  glitter!  glitter!  Handsome  carriages  rolled 
up  to  the  door,  and  splendidly  dressed  ladies  got 
out,  all  silk  and  lace  and  diamonds,  with  sweet 
smiles  and  dainty  manner!  She  watched  for  the 
lady  in  the  purple  velvet,  the  lovely  lady  with 
the  great  dark  eyes;  but  the  pompous  coachmen 
ordered  her  rudely  out  of  the  way,  and  threat 
ened  her  with  their  whips. 

She  became  confused  and  frightened;  the 
lamps  turned  into  a  sea  of  fire;  and  then  —  and 
then,  somebody  touched  her  —  somebody  wound 
tender,  loving  arms  about  her,  and  as  the  cold 
night  air  seemed  to  creep  about  her  lips  and 
cheeks  with  a  caress,  and  the  stars  came  down  to 
meet  the  city  lights,  and  all  was  a  drear  chaos  of 
voices  and  lights  and  far-off  music — then,  oh, 
then,  somebody  received  her  falling  weight  in 
the  closest,  lovingest  embrace,  and  clinging  arms 
were  thrown  fondly  about  her. 

It  was  only  a  girl,  in  a  coarse  dress  and  a  red 
shawl;  but  she  had  found  Jennie!  Mother  and 
child  had  met  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE    NARROW    PATH. 

"  Said  I  not  so  ?  that  I  would  sin  no  more ! 

Witness,  my  God,  I  did ; 
Yet  I  am  run  again  upon  the  score: 
My  faults  cannot  be  hid." 

YEAR  of  harrowing  experiences  had 
passed  —  what  need  to  tell  of  them  — 
since  Jennie  had  given  up  all  sinful 
luxuries,  and  left  a  few  farewell  words  for  Ross 
Farnham,  that  I  think  he  will  remember  in  his 
dying  hour.  She  had  not  looked  upon  his  face; 
she  heard  the  story  of  doom,  and  saw  herself  as 
she  really  was  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 

Oh,  such  a  bitter,  hand-to-hand  fight  with 
poverty ;  such  a  rending,  snarling,  gnawing  wolf 
at  the  door  to  bait  with  flesh  and  blood,  and  no 
ravens  to  come,  as  they  did  to  Elijah.  Through 
it  all,  too,  there  was  a  sad,  desolate,  dying  mother, 

mercifully  insensible  to  mere  bodily  discomfort, 
(191; 


192  AGAINST   FATE. 

but  haunted  by  spectres  of  the  past;  daily, 
hourly,  wringing  her  daughter's  heart  by  allu 
sions  to  her  wrong-doing. 

Oh,  what  need  of  a  future  place  of  punish 
ment!  Is  there  any  boiling  caldron,  where  the 
fire  is  hotter  than  the  white  heat  of  remorse?  I 
think  Jennie  walked  into  frequent  pits  of  red 
sulphur  at  this  period  of  her  life.  These  were, 
her  dying  mother,  brought  to  this  terrible  pass 
by  her  daughter's  weakness,  and  her  dead  father. 
Night  and  day  he  stood  before  her,  stern,  vindic 
tive,  unforgiving.  No  need  of  a  jury  to  convict 
her,  or  of  a  frowning  judge  to  read  her  sentence. 
Her  only  merit  was  that  she  wore  her  crown  of 
thorns  worthily.  There  was  no  crying  over  the 
life  she  had  relinquished,  with  its  ease  and 
luxury;  she  accepted  all  the  hardships  of  her  lot 
as  steps  upward,  and  toiled,  day  after  day,  at 
whatever  she  could  find  to  do,  until  health  and 
strength  both  failed  her.  She  could  not  leave 
her  sick  mother,  so  her  work  must  be  taken  home, 
whatever  it  might  be.  It  seemed  at  this  time 
that  if  only  one  of  her  old  friends  would  come 
to  her  rescue,  it  would  be  like  a  hand  extended 
from  Heaven. 


THE   NARROW   PATH.  193 

One  day  she  was  returning  Lome  from  a 
useless  search  after  work,  in  a  most  despondent 
mood.  I  call  home  the  miserable  refuge  which 
she  shared  Avith  her  mother,  and  in  the  sense  of 
refuge  it  was  a  home.  She  was  nearer  a  condi 
tion  of  recklessness  to-day  than  she  had  yet  been 
since  she  set  out  in  this  new,  narrow  path,  for 
every  door  seemed  shut  against  her,  shut  and 
barred.  Ross  Farnham  had  offered,  through  his- 
lawyer,  to  assist  her,  but  she  would  neither  see 
him  nor  hear  from  him.  She  had  left  her  jewels, 
even  to  the  ring  with  which  he  foreswore  himself, 
and  her  costly  wardrobe,  w.ith  every  other  token 
of  the  brief  idolatry  of  his  love,  and  had  carried 
away  with  her  only  the  simple  serge  dress  and 
coarse  shawl  she  had  worn  when  Ross  met  and 
deceived  her. 

Upon  this  day  she  had  just  left  a  beautiful 
house  where  lived  a  lady  who  had  promised  her 
work  a  week  previous.  When  Jennie  called  for 
it,  however,  the  lady  informed  her  that  she  had 
felt  it  incumbent  upon  her,  as  a  church  member, 
to  give  it  to  a  young  girl  who  had  an  invalid 
father  to  support ;  besides  —  and  this  was  evi 
dently  the  whole  turning-point — she  would  do> 
13 


194  AGAINST  FATE. 

it  at  half  price.  There  was  110  more  to  be  said ; 
the  obligations  of  poverty  at  half  price  were  not 
to  be  gainsaid;  but  Jennie  wondered  how  much 
longer  body  and  soul  could  be  kept  together. 

Was  it  surprising,  then,  that  she  was  quite 
disheartened?  She  had  eaten  no  food  since  the 
morning,  and  she  was  weary  in  flesh  and  spirit. 
Oh,  dear  Savior,  who  wast  tempted  and  lonely, 
dost  Thou  see  Thy  children  at  such  times,  and 
know  how  pitiful  is  their  fate? 

As  she  walked  along,  with  downcast  eyes,  she 
nearly  ran  over  a  little  mother,  who  was  trund 
ling  a  perambulator  along,  with  one  baby  in  it, 
while  another  toddled  at  her  side.  Jennie  lifted 
her  eyes  and  began  an  apology,  and  then  suddenly 
stopped  short  —  it  was  Mrs.  Winne !  She  almost 
smiled  in  her  cold  despair,  on  seeing  the  nervous 
haste  with  which  the  woman  drew  her  skirts 
aside  and  gathered  her  little  brood  about  her,  as 
though  violent  hands  were  about  to  be  laid  on 
them.  Then  for  a  moment  the  two  stood  and 
looked  at  each  other  —  the  woman  who  had  home, 
husband,  children,  and  an  honest  name,  and  the 
woman  who  had  lost  all.  Heavens!  how  souls, 
lost  or  saved,  can  look  out  of  human  eyes! 


THE   NARROW   PATH.  195 

Jennie  could  not  help  appealing  to  her  at  that 
supreme  moment  of  her  misery;  but  at  the  first 
intimation  of  speech,  Mrs.  Winne  seemed  to  pale 
and  shrink  in  extreme  displeasure  and  surprise, 
and  then  she  trundled  her  offspring  away,  and 
hurried  home  to  tell  Albert  of  the  shameless 
audacity  of  that  miserable  girl! 

The  blow  struck  home.  I  will  not  deny  that 
Jennie  hated  Mrs.  Winne  fiercely  at  that  mo 
ment,  and  wished  she  could  recall  her  to  tell  her 
so.  Then  she  tried  to  forget  her  utterly,  and 
accept  this  penance  as  another  offering  to  the 
Moloch  of  her  fate. 

When  she  reached  the  shabby  entrance  that  led 
to  her  poor  retreat,  something  rose  up  before  her 
and  she  started  back,  appalled.  What  was  it  — 
ghost  or  spirit?  She  gave  a  quick  involuntary 
cry  of  convulsive  fear,  as  she  saw  the  wreck  of 
Keuben  Harlow!  Her  first  thought  was  that  he 
would  kill  her,  and  she  bowed  her  head,  not 
daring  to  look  up,  until  his  voice  re-assured  her. 
There  was  no  attempt  at  greeting. 

"  I  have  seen  your  mother,"  he  said,  calmly; 
"  and  she  knew  me." 

"Oh,    Reuben!"   cried    Jennie,    in   distress; 


ig6  AGAINST   FATE. 

"why  did  you  come  here?  I  heard  that  you 
were  — you  were—  She  hesitated. 

"Dying?  Well,  yes,  I  am;  but  I  am  along 
time  about  it.  Sometimes  I  think  I  must  have  a 
dozen  lives,  I  hang  on  so.  Well,  I  could  n't  save 
you,  Jennie;  I  tried,  but  fate  was  against  me. 
Still,  I  felt  that  you  might  need  me,  and  I  came 
as  soon  as  they  would  let  me;  and  I  am  so  glad 
I  did." 

Glad !  Jennie  wondered  what  he  could  be  glad 
about.  She  was  fast  losing  her  beauty  —  sorrow 
and  suffering  do  not  perpetuate  the  bloom  of 
youth  —  and  as  to  his  love ;  oh,  surely  that  must 
be  dead  now.  She  waited. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  continued,  coughing  feebly 
at  intervals,  "  to  know  that  you  are  safe.  Oh, 
Jennie,  child,  was  it  worth  while  to  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  your  own  soul !  You  do 
not  think  so,  or  you  would  not  be  here.  Oh, 
thank  God,  that  I  find  you  in  honest  rags  rather 
than  in  the  purple  and  fine  linen  of  sin !  Oh,  if 
my  hand  had  not  failed;  if  his  perfidious  soul 
had  -  " 

"Hush!  Reuben,"  said  Jennie,  solemnly,  with 
a  far-away  look  in  her  dark,  sad  eyes.  "  I  loved 


THE   NARROW   PATH.  197 

him  —  that  is  all  my  excuse  —  I  loved  him  from 
the  first  moment  I  saw  him ;  my  sin  has  brought 
its  punishment.  Do  you  remember  how  plump 
my  cheeks  and  arms  were?  Now  I  am  nearly  as 
thin  as  you.  Oh,  Reuben,  do  you  think  I  have 
not  suffered  since  I  came  to  my  senses,  as  I 
thought  of  you,  lying  a  whole  year  and  more  in 
that  dreary  hospital  on  my  account!  How  can 
I  live  with  such  a  load  of  guilt  on  my  soul! " 

"  It  is  not  your  guilt;  it  is  his!  Can  you  not 
see  the  arch  hypocrite's  whole  plan  ?  It  was  to 
place  you  in  his  power  that  his  cousin  sent  for 
you ;  it  was  to  help  his  designs  that  she  turned 
you  into  the  streets.  You  see  I  know  it  all. 
Why,  poor  little  lamb,  you  had  not  the  shadow 
of  a  chance! " 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  be  wicked,  Eeuben,"  said 
Jennie,  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  did  not  realize  my 
danger  until  it  was  too  late.  Try  not  to  think 
of  me  as  a  bold,  bad  girl ;  I  can  see  now  that  I 
was  led  astray  by  those  whom  I  trusted  the 
most." 

'•  And  he  —  the  villain  who  caused  it  all.  Jen 
nie,  I  swore  a  thousand  times  that  I  would  kill 
him  if  I  got  well;  but  I  am  a  dying  man  myself. 


198  AGAINST   FATE. 

I  must  forego  my  revenge,  or  leave  it  to  Him, 
who  has  said,  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay.' 
Oh,  he  will  be  punished,  never  fear!  Have  you 
seen  him  since  —  since  you  left  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Jennie,  wearily;  her  strength 
was  fast  failing  her.  "  That  is,  not  to  speak  to 
him.  But,  Reuben,  let  us  not  talk  of  him;  I 
cannot  bear  it.  I  will  only  tell  you  this,  I  loved 
him  better  than  my  own  soul;  I  love  him  now. 
My  heart  breaks  with  loneliness  when  I  think  of 
him ;  you  see  I  am  not  cured.  Bad  as  I  am,  and 
unfit  to  be  the  associate  of  good  people,  who  are 
Christians,  in  the  sight  of  God  T  am  his  wife, 
and  I  shall  be^at  the  judgment  day."' 

Reuben  Harlow  groaned.  Just  so  he  loved 
her,  and  to  what  had  it  brought  him?  To  ruin, 
desolation,  and  death!  And  yet  he  was  as  noth 
ing  in  her  sight.  He  held  out  his  hand  in 
farewell,  but  she  did  not  offer  to  take  it. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  hoarsely;  "I  have  only 
a  little  while  to  live;  let  me  help  you  if  you 
need  me.  I  am  going  back  to  the  old  place. 
Promise  me,  Jennie,  by  the  memory  of  the  years 
when  we  were  so  happy  together,  that  you  will 
send  to  me,  if  you  want  me  while  I  live;  but 


THE   NARROW   PATH.  199 

if —  if  I  must  go  soon  —  oh,  God,  how  can  I  say 
good-bye  forever!  " 

"  Not  forever,  Reuben ;  and  indeed,  I  would 
ask  you  first,  of  all  the  world,  to  befriend  me. 
Good-bye,  and  God  bless  you,  Eeuben  ;  if  He 
will  hear  me." 

And  Reuben  walked  feebly  away,  coughing 
and  tottering  like  an  old  man.  Jennie  looked 
after  him,  and  hot  tears  of  anguish  rolled  down 
her  cheeks.  The  night  had  darkened  and  the 
stars  were  shining  faintly  in  the  blue  sky,  far, 
far  above  her.  There  was  only  a  small  square 
of  Heaven  visible,  but  how  calm  and  peaceful  it 
looked!  How  often  she  had  watched  those  same 
stars  from  the  old  farm-house,  and  mused  upon 
the  beautiful,  far-off  world  she  longed  to  see  and 
know.  And  how  had  it  served  her? 

Tears  blotted  out  the  stars  and  the  heavens, 
and  she  went  into  the  house,  and  groped  her 
way  to  the  two  poor  rooms  she  and  her  mother 
occupied. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE    GOSPEL    OF    PEACE. 

"  Not  God  had  wrought  her  hapless  woe, 
Had  sent  her  wandering  to  and  fro. 
She  did  not  fear,  alone  with  Him, 
Though  sense  were  dead,  and  soul  were  dim. 
From  man  the  blow  that  killed  her  came, 
From  man  her  craving  grief  and  shame, 
On  him  lay  all  the  bitter  blame, 

From  him  she  asked  her  child." 

E  'D  better  rouse  yourself,  Miss.     It 's 
them  undertaker's  men  a  coming." 

They  were  bringing  in  a  pine  coffin, 
with  much  unnecessary  noise  and  shuffling,  and 
had  forgotten  the  mechanical  grace  of  lifting 
their  hats  from  their  heads  as  they  passed  over 
this  poor  threshold. 

Jennie  arose    slowly   from   beside   the   white 

sheeted  form  and  walked  wearily  to  the  window; 

her  face  was  white  and  drawn,  but  tearless.  How 

could  she  weep  that  the  weary  life  was  ended  iu 

(200) 


•Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled." — Page  203. 


THE   GOSPEL  OF   PEACE.  2OI 

infinite  rest?  She  could  almost  rejoice  with  the 
released  spirit.  She  tried  to  follow  it  to  the 
Paradise  of  God,  but  poor  Jennie's  theological 
views  were  sadly  obscure;  while  she  was  sure 
that  her  mother  had  gone  to  Heaven,  she  herself 
seemed  only  more  surely  barred  out,  and  she  was 
beginning  to  have  a  dreadful,  listless  feeling  that 
it  did  not  matter  much  what  became  of  her,  and 
to  feel  rather  sure  she  had  been  lost  from  the 
beginning,  as  though  God  could,  after  giving  His 
Son  for  a  ransomed  world,  let  any  soul  be  eter 
nally  lost. 

Some  one  touched  her  rudely  on  the  shoulder. 
It  was  the  undertaker's  man  ;  but  when  she 
turned,  and  he  saw  her  face,  he  stepped  back  and 
touched  his  hat. 

"  It 's  all  right  now,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  of 
professional  inspection  toward  the  coffin.  "  It 's 
snug  and  light,  quite  fit  for  a  lady.  And  here  's 
the  bill,  Miss." 

Jennie  took  the  slip  of  paper  and  paid  the 
amount  it  called  for  with  her  last  poor  earnings. 
The  man  still  lingered,  and  looked  appealingly 
toward  Mrs.  Lannigan,  the  woman  from  whom 
Jennie  rented  the  rooms. 


2O2  AGAINST  FATE. 

"  It 's  the  funeral  he  manes,"  said  that  person, 
coming  forward.  "As  ye  refused  to  have  any 
wake,  perhaps  ye  won't  mind  hevin'  any  praste 
or  funeral,  Miss." 

"No, "said  Jennie,  hoarsely;  "there  will  be 
no  funeral  ;  you  can  send  here  this  afternoon, 
for  the  —  the  body.  That  is  all." 

The  man  was  accustomed  to  straits  of  all  kinds, 
in  life  and  in  death;  it  did  not  matter  whether 
the  clay  was  coarse  and  common,  or  lovely  and 
refined ;  to  get  it  out  of  the  way  as  speedily  as 
possible  was  his  sole  object.  But  here  was  some 
thing  he  did  not  like  to  encounter,  this  white, 
fixed  despair  of  the  living.  He  tried  to  think 
of  something  consoling  to  say,  and  finally 
remarked : 

"If  it  would  make  you  feel  any  better,  Miss, 
there 's  a  minister  lives  down  by  the  Lake,  who 
would  come  willingly,  and  say  a  prayer  or  two 
at  the  time  of  the  fun'ral.  He 's  a  mighty  nice 
sort  of  man,  and  does  n't  belong  to  any  particu 
lar  church ;  but  is  a  real,  wide-awake  Christian, 
on  a  pretty  big  scale." 

"  Holy  Mother!  he  manes  the  man  that  praches 
in  the  the«ytre,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Laimigan. 


THE    GOSPEL  OF  PEACE.  203 

"  That 's  because  no  other  place  will  hold  the 
people  who  go  to  hear  him.  He 's  what  they  call 
a  sympathetic  preacher,  and  makes  every  one  feel 
as  if  he  'd  been  as  sinful  and  as  miserable  as  they 
are.  He  will  do  you  good,  Miss,  if  any  one  can." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Jennie,  passively; 
"perhaps  he  would  not  care  to  come;  but  if  he 
will,  he  may  at  least  offer  a  prayer,  not  for  the 
dead  but  for  the  living." 

She  had  heard  this  preacher,  absorbed  as  she 
had  at  the  time  been,  in  sinful  pleasures  and  an 
unholy  love;  she  had  never  forgotten  his  words, 
but  she  remembered  him  as  popular,  gifted,  and 
prosperous.  Would  he  condescend  to  visit 
poverty  and  sin? 

He  came  that  afternoon;  a  slight,  dark  man, 
with  a  pleasant  face  and  a  wonderful  magnetism 
of  manner.  Jennie  was  bending  over  the  thin, 
white  face  of  her  mother,  taking  that  final 
agonized  look  that  must  last  the  hungry  heart  so 
long  —  so  long,  when  a  hand,  tender  and  kindly 
as  a  woman's,  fell  upon  her  head,  and  a  low, 
persuasive  voice  said: 

"  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled ;  ye  believe 
in  God,  believe  also  in  Me." 


204  AGAINST   FATE. 

She  stood  erect,  calmed,  hushed,  by  that  low, 
controlling  voice.  .Reverently  the  minister  ap 
proached  the  dead,  and  gazed  for  a  moment  in 
silence;  then  he  looked  about  the  room.  There 
were  present,  the  undertaker's  men,  Mrs.  Lan- 
nigan  —  her  prejudices  revealed  in  her  face  — 
two  or  three  dirty,  slatternly  women,  who  had 
dropped  in,  and  looked  half-sober,  half-aggressive 
and  wholly  incongruous,  and  the  tall,  slender, 
beautiful  girl,  with  the  manners  of  a  lady,  the 
plain  black  dress  of  a  nun,  and  a  face  of  desolate 
anguish.  Then  he  bowed  his  head  in  prayer. 

I  wish  I  could  reproduce  his  words  here;  but 
the  fire  on  the  altar  is  dead.  They  did  their 
work,  however.  "Jennie  felt  a  peace,  such  as  she 
nad  never  before  known,  steal  over  her  soul;  Mrs. 
Lannigan  forgot  the  m'an  was  not  "apraste," 
and  cried  aloud  ;  while  every  heart  there  was 
touched  as  by  a  divine  influence. 

After  the  prayer  the  minister  talked  to  them. 
It  was  not  prayer,  it  was  not  preaching,  just  a 
few  comforting  texts,  a  revelation  of  God  as  the 
Father,  instead  of  the  Judge. 

"  Man,"  he  said,  "  had  come  to  us  in  all  ages, 
and  offered  us  a  Deity  fashioned  after  the  nearest 


THE    GOSPEL   OF  PEACE.  205 

king  or  despot,  and  millions  of  children,  old  and 
young,  have  gone  to  bed  at  night,  whispering 
their  prayers  to  a  Deity,  not  so  kind,  nor  so 
sweet,  nor  so  just,  as  the  mother  who  had  just 
bidden  them  '  good  night.'  In  past  days  there 
used  to  be  a  dreadful  fear  that  perhaps  we  might 
any  night  go  from  the  kingdom  of  our  mother 
to  the  kingdom  of  God.  Our  mother  seemed 
always  more  beautiful  than  such  a  God.  Now 
we  know  Him  as  He  is,  long  suffering  and 
patient,  tender,  and  of  infinite  compassion,  ready 
to  hear  and  to  save;  the  friend  of  sinners." 

Then  he  turned  to  Jennie,  with  the  words, 
"  Your  mother  has  bidden  you  good  night,  and 
gone  to  her  rest;  in  the  sunshine  of  eternal  day, 
you  will  bid  her  a  blessed  good  morning.  lie- 
member  that  '  whosoever  will '  may  find  Him ; 
the  golden  chords  of  love  are  ever  dra\ving  us 
upward  into  the  atmosphere  of  rest,  peace,  and 
compensation,  where  He  dwells.  Christ  died  for 
us,  God  lives  for  us,  for  you  and  me.  Trust 
Him;  no  "matter  how  often  you  fail  and  faint, 
fall  or  stumble,  feel  in  the  dark  for  His  hand, 
and  it  will  lead  you  out  of  great  darkness  into 
perfect  light." 


206  AGAINST   FATE. 

"  Sure  he  spakes  as  well  as  any  praste  I  ever 
heard,"  said  Mrs.  Lannigan,  wiping  her  eyes  and 
shuffling  out  of  the  room  after-  the  bearers  and 
the  coffin,  leaving  Jennie  alone  to  the  desolation 
of  a  dwelling  vacated  by  death. 

The  minister  shook  hands  with  her  and  went 
his  way.  He  had  treated  her  just  as  he  would 
have  treated  any  other  sorrowing  human  soul, 
irrespective  of  surroundings.  He  knew  she  was 
under  the  ban  of  sin,  but  what  particular  sin  he 
did  not  ask  nor  care  to  know;  he  came  to  her  as 
a  messenger  from  God,  bringing  glad  tidings  of 
great  joy,  if  she  would  but  receive  them. 

That  night  a  reaction  set  in,  and  Jennie  raved 
with  fever.  Mrs.  Lannigan  and  her  set  did  what 
they  could,  for  the  Irish  heart  has  a  fountain  of 
kindness  down  in  its  depths.  Those  poor  scrub 
women  took  care  of  Jennie  as  well  as  they  knew 
how,  and  \vhen  she  arose,  like  a  ghost,  from  that 
sick-bed,  they  tried  to  find  work  for  her. 

Did  you  ever  try  to  find  work  in  a  large  city, 
where  the  supply  of  laborers  constantly  exceeds 
the  demand?  If  you  are  a  woman,  young,  deli 
cate,  and  without  friends,  you  will  find  the  battle 
a  tough  one.  There  are  thousands  of  such  cases 


THE    GOSPEL   OF   PEACE.  2O/ 

in  this  great  city,  of  women,  young,  weak,  and 
helpless,  who  have  drifted  here  from  the  green 
fields  of  the  country,  and  fought  the  demon  of 
want,  toil,  and  hardship,  till  they  went  down  and 
were  lost  to  sight  forever.  There  is  no  Young 

Women's  Christian  Association. 

The  homes  of  the  rich  open  their  doors  wide 
to  the  Ross  Farnhams  of  society,  but  they  are 
shut  and  barred  to  his  victim.  Yery  good.  The 
way  of  the  transgressor  should  be  hard.  But 
what  about  those  who  have  not  yet  become  trans 
gressors  ;  who  are  hesitating  over  the  fatal  plunge? 
They  should  not  be  dependent  upon  the  caprices 
of  one  woman  or  many.  An  association  of  the 
strongest  and  best  women  in  the  city,  women 
above  petty,  personal  feelings,  above  the  strife  of 
party  preferment,  and  influenced  by  the  divine 
principles  of  humanity,  should  be  formed  to 
warn,  help,  and  save,  not  the  fallen,  but  the 
falling;  not  to  tell  the  story  with  illustrations  at 
every  social  gathering,  but  to  do  so  much,  that 
there  will  not  be  a  story  to  tell;  to  supplement 
every  saving  deed  with  another,  till  they  reach 
the  skies.  The  church  cannot  do  this  work, 


208  AGAINST   FATE. 

i 
neither  can  the  State;  it  is  for  loyal  Christian 

womanhood  to  accomplish. 

The  next  chapter  in  Jennie's  true  story  may 
sound  like  a  burlesque;  it  is  but  a  faithful  trans 
cription  of  what  actually  occurred  at  a  veritable 
meeting.  It  is  not  intended  to  cast  any  slur 
upon  the  public  conventions  of  women,  but  there 
are  good  people  who  will  readily  testify  to  the 
faithfulness  of  the  report. 


CHAPTEK    XXIV. 

IX    SOLEMN    CONCLAVE. 

HERE  was  a  meeting  of  the  B.  W.  A. 
Society  in  one  of  the  public  halls  of 
the  city.  Notices  had  appeared  in  the 
evening  and  morning  papers,  announcing  it, 
stating  that  it  was  to  be  held  in  the  interests  of 
reform,  and  calling  upon  all  thinking  women  to 
come  forward  and  endorse  it  by  their  presence. 
The  afternoon  named  found  a  large  audience, 
composed  of  women,  prominent  in  all  public 
work;  women  who  seldom  went  anywhere  but  ta 
church;  literary  women,  business  women,  and 
fashionable  women;  with  also  a  number  of 
earnest,  thinking  women,  who  seldom  found  time 
to  attend  such  a  gathering,  but  hoped  for  much 
good  from  this.  There  was  also  a  sprinkling  of 
men,  reformers,  free-thinkers,  lawyers,  and  poli 
ticians.  They  all  looked  curious  and  uncomfor 
table,  as  though  they  did  not  know  what  they 

were  there  for. 

14  (209) 


210  AGAINST   FATE. 

A  very  pretty  woman,  in  green  silk,  point  lace, 
and  diamonds,  sat  with  the  other  women  on  the 
platform,  and  nodded  and  smiled  approvingly  as 
one  and  another  she  had  invited  to  be  present, 
came  in.  This  was  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Bliss,  who 
was  a  leader  in  society,  as  well  as  an  enthusiastic 
member  of  the  B.  W.  A.  S.  Having  never 
worked  any  herself,  she  felt  called  upon  to  advo 
cate  the  cause  of  working  women.  Her  soft 
complexion  and  tranquil  features  seemed  cast  in 
the  mould  of  an  eternal  smile  —  simper,  her 
enemies  called  it;  however,  she  made  a  charming 
centrepiece  for  the  platform,  and  when  she  cla*sped 
her  hands  in  mimic  feeling  the  diamonds 
sparkled  beautifully. 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  by  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  Society,  Mrs.  Monroe,  who  made  a 
brief  address,  announcing  that  it  was  strictly  a 
women's  meeting,  and  would  the  gentlemen 
please  to  withdraw? 

Upon  this  about  a  dozen  arose,  looked  very 
much  abashed,  and  filed  out  noiselessly,  as  if 
afraid  of  waking  somebody.  The  doors  were 
closed,  and  the  President  was  about  to  proceed 
to  business,  when  she  discovered  a  young  man 


IN   SOLEMN  CONCLAVE.  211 

busily  sharpening  a  pencil.  His  pink  cheeks 
were  dimpling  with  professional  mirth  as  he 
imagined  he  had  been  overlooked  ;  but  as  he 
caught  the  eye  of  the  superior  officer,  and  saw 
the  uplifted  finger,  he  took  his  hat  and  meekly 
retired  with  the  rest,  and  once  more  peace  reigned 
in  the  hall. 

Then  the  President  gave  her  address.  The 
magnetism  of  her  personal  appearance,  added  to 
the  air  of  self-conviction  natural  to  her,  inspired 
her  followers  with  a  devout  faith  in  her  ability  to 
work  wonders.  That  she  never  did  accomplish 
anything  was  left  for  the  records  to  show.  She 
had  the  faculty  of  talking  well,  and  filling  the 
air  with  the  small  shot  of  sounding  ideas,  which 
never  killed  any  wrong.  Her  hobby  now,  was  to 
reclaim  the  fallen,  and  she  unrolled  a  petition 
that  looked  like  a  panorama  of  Egypt,  and 
requested  every  lady  present  to  sign  it.  There 
were  models  of  hospitals,  asylums,  refuges,  co 
operative  boarding-houses,  foundling  homes,  and 
what  not,  covering  one  side  of  it.  The  opposite 
side  held  the  petitioners'  names. 

The  majority  of  the  ladies  were  delighted  with 
the  drawings.  A  community  on  paper  looks  so 


212  AGAINST   FATE. 

well;  but  they  did  not  care  to  add  their  names 
just  yet.  A  few  appended  straggling  signatures, 
and  felt  as  if  they  were  signing  a  new  Emanci 
pation  document. 

When  Mrs.  Monroe  sat  down,  a  modest  look 
ing  woman,  in  a  quiet  suit  of  gray,  with  white 
hair  banded  back  under  a  Quaker's  bonnet,  arose 
and  said: 

"  It  seems  to  me  it  would  be  a  pleasant  and 
kindly  thing  to  prevent  those  women  from  the 
necessity  of  falling.  If  thee  would  make  more 
familiar  acquaintance  with  these  young  working 
girls,  and  hedge  them  about  with  social  compan 
ionship  of  their  own  kind,  and  help  them  to  the 
innocent  pleasures  of  life,  thee  would  help  them 
to  preserve  their  purity,  and  I  hold  that  would 
be  better  than  wading  into  a  pit  to  help  them 
out." 

"  I  second  that,"  said  an  earnest  voice  from 
the  gallery;  ';  especially  if  we  have  helped  dig 
the  pit,  as  so  many  of  us  have,  into  which  they 
are  fallen." 

"  And  I  claim  that  it  is  easier  to  save  ten  girls 
from  falling,  than  to  reform  one  who  has  fallen," 
added  another. 


IN   SOLEMN   CONCLAVE.  213 

"  That  is  not  the  object  of  this  meeting,"  said 
the  President.  "  It  is  the  sick  who  need  a  physi 
cian.  I  — 

"  Mrs.  President,"  shrieked  an  old  lady,  with 
a  very  high  forehead  and  a  sanctimonious  whine, 
"I  think  I  perceive  a  man  in  the  gallery!  " 

Had  she  announced  the  presence  of  a  royal 
Bengal  tiger  it  could  not  have  produced  a  more 
decided  sensation.  Though  nothing  had  been 
said,  or  was  likely  to  be  said,  that  might  not  be 
spoken  upon  the  house-top,  the  air  of  mystery 
that  enveloped  the  meeting  made  it  presumable 
that  something  dreadful  was  coming.  At  this 
announcement  one-half  of  the  audience  sprang 
to  their  feet  in  alarm,  and  everybody  stared  at 
the  gallery.  The  man  proved  to  be  a  very  comely 
young  woman,  in  a  reform  dress,  and  she  was  at 
once  invited  to  a  seat  on  the  platform. 

The  next  speaker  was  a  benevolent-looking, 
elderly  woman,  who  wished  to  present  a  special 
case. 

"  It  is  that  of  a  young  girl,"  she  said,  "  who 
came  here  from  the  country  and  lived  with  some 
woman  —  she  did  not  give  me  her  name  —  who 
betrayed  her  in  the  basest  manner.  She  was 


214  AGAINST  FATE. 

totally  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  a 
mere  child  in  years,  and  the  only  child  of  poor 
parents,  who  expected  much  from  her.  She  was 
betrayed  by  this  woman  into  the  hands  of  a 
libertine  relative  who  had  been  cared  for  under 
her  father's  poor  roof;  the  man  did  not  cast  her 
off,  but  it  would  have  come  to  the  same  thing 
in  the  end.  He  deluded  her  for  awhile  with  the 
old  sophistry,  about  mere  formalities,  and  as  she 
was  extremely  beautiful,  he  maintained  her  in 
magnificence. 

"  The  awakening  came  when  she  found  her  old 
mother  wandering  about  the  streets,  in  rags  and 
insanity,  looking  for  her  lost  child,  and  learned 
that  her  father  had  died  by  his  own  hand  upon 
hearing  of  her  disgrace.  She  took  her  mother 
to  poor  lodgings,  resigned  all  that  her  lover,  had 
bestowed  upon  her,  and  went  to  work  to  make  an 
honest  living.  After  a  dreadful  struggle,  during 
which  no  friend  she  had  ever  known  before  would 
speak  to  her,  her  mother  died,  and  she  herself 
has  just  risen  from  a  bed  of  sickness,  where  she 
was  nursed  and  tended  by  some  common  laboring 
people  —  poor  in  all  but  kindness.  . 

"  I  know  there  are  ladies  here  to-day  who  can 


IN   SOLEMN   CONCLAVE.  21$ 

assure  this  girl's  future  by  giving  her  employ 
ment;  she  can  sew  beautifully  and  do  all  kinds 
of  embroidery,  but  she  is  not  strong  enough  to 
do  housework.  She  says  that  she  was  a  sort  of 
companion  to  the  woman  who  first  brought  her 
to  this  city;  some  of  you  who  have  invalid  friends 
might  find  her  useful  in  that  way.  I  would  take 
her  myself,  but  I  expect  to  leave  the  city  in  a 
few  days,  for  Europe.  She  promised  to  come 
here  this  afternoon,  and  here  she  is,"  added  the 
speaker  as  the  door  opened  and  shut,  and  a  slight, 
fair  girl  entered  and  sat  down  near  the  entrance, 
as  if  hiding  from  observation. 

Mrs.  Monroe  was  very  much  agitated  by  the 
appearance  of  this  girl;  but  no  one  noticed  her, 
for  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  slender  figure 
in  black,  while  a  murmur  of  admiring  comment 
ran  through  the  assembly.  How  beautiful  she 
was!  Her  skin  was  almost  transparent  in  its 
delicacy;  her  large,  dark  eyes  were  sad  and  wist 
ful,  and  her  features  were  exquisitely  regular. 
The  expression  of  her  face  was  that  of  one  who 
has  suffered  much,  and  the  large,  dark  eyes  — 
larger  and  darker  from  sickness  —  were  fixed 
with  imploring  intensity  upon  her  one  friend 


2l6  AGAINST   FATE. 

present — the  lady  who  was  presenting  her  case. 
Need  I  say  that  this  girl  was  Jennie  Armstrong! 

When  Jennie  looked  up  and  saw  Mrs.  Monroe 
it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  must  turn  and  fly,  if 
even  into  great  darkness.  The  woman  who  had 
so  treacherously  befriended  her;  who  had  been 
bribed,  as  she  now  believed,  to  betray  her! 

The  ladies  crowded  about  her,  and  asked  a 
multitude  of  questions,  some  of  which  brought 
the  hot  flush  of  sensibility  to  her  cheeks.  They 
meant  it  kindly  enough,  and  intended  to  try  and 
help  her;  but  there  seemed  to  be  no  decision  of 
purpose.  Each  one  felt  obliged  to  ask  permission 
of  her  husband,  or  of  some  relative,  before  she 
could  give  the  stranger  a  home.  One  lady,  a 
prominent  member  of  a  then  prominent  church, 
offered  to  consult  her  minister,  and  abide  by  his 
decision;  she  was  a  pretty,  vain,  impulsive 
woman,  who  did  about  as  she  pleased,  making 
liberal  donations  to  the  church,  giving  fine  pres 
ents  to  the  minister's  wife,  and  wearing  larger 
diamonds  and  more  of  them  than  any  member 
of  her  society.  She  made  up  in  appearance  what 
she  lacked  in  intelligence,  and  the  Church  smiled 
at  her  follies  and  did  good  with  her  money.  She 


IN    SOLEMN   CONCLAVE.  21  / 

had  come  here  to-day  out  of  respect  for  Mrs. 
Bliss,  and  she  felt  really  grieved  for  the  young 
girl  who  looked  so  sorrow-stricken ;  she  summed 
up  .in  her  own  mind  the  cast-off  dresses  she  would 
bestow  upon  her,  and  she  was  sure  the  Church 
would  act  handsomely  in  the  matter.  | 

Mrs.  Monroe  felt  that  she  must  say  something. . 
It  was  expected  of  her;  but  all  the  bitterness  of 
her  nature  seemed  to  surge  up  and  choke  her. 
One  lady,  who  had  been  regarding  her  fixedly, 
and  had  noted  her  agitation,  now  said  : 

"Perhaps,  Mrs.  President,  you  know  some 
thing  of  this  case,  and  will  advise  us  what  to  do 
with  the  girl." 

There  is  no  cruelty  so  malignant  as  that  of  a 
small  nature.  Mrs.  Monroe  had  much  at  stake; 
it  had  been  her  intention,  from  the  moment 
Jennie  entered,  not  to  take  any  step  toward 
acknowledging  a  past  acquaintance;  that  she  felt 
might  not  be  creditable  to  herself  in  all  eyes. 
Now  that  she  was  called  upon  and  must  speak, 
she  chose  to  say  : 

"  I  know  her  to  be  confirmed  in  ways  of  sin." 

It  was  the  one  blow  too  much.  Perhaps  she 
thought  Jennie  would  not  dare  resent  it.  The 


21 8  AGAINST   FATE. 

girl  sprang  to  her  feet  and  walked  up  the  aisle, 
with  flashing  eyes,  and  confronted  the  speaker. 
In  these  years  she  had  learned  to  speak  with 
dignity  and  clearness.  The  reformer  sank  back 
in  her  chair,  and  her  featnres  assumed  an  air  of 
stony  defiance. 

'  How  dare  you  insult  me  so!  "  cried  the  girl, 
looking  at  her  as  if,  in  her  frenzy,  she  might 
spring  upon  her.  "  I  may  be  bad  —  I  certainly 
have  been  —  but  I  am  a  thousand  times  better 
than  you !  What  is  your  marriage  to  you,  but  a 
lie  —  but  perjury!  I  have  not  murdered  the 
innocent,  as  you  have  done!  I  have  never  turned ^ 
helpless  girls  into  the  streets,  to  further  a  base 
purpose,  and  then  taunted  them  with  the  sin  I 
helped  them  to  commit!  You  help  the  fallen! 
You  lead  people  to  a  higher  life!  I  tell  you,  it 
is  you,  and  such  as  you,  that  bring  discredit  on 
the  charities  of  better  women !  If  I  were  home 
less,  houseless,  and  starving  —  as  God  knows  I 
am  —  I  would  never  touch  the  bread  that  you 
offered  me,  or  sleep  under  a  roof  that  your  charity 
had  procured  me!" 

She  was  whiter  than  any  dead  woman  when  she 
sat  down,  mentally  and  physically  exhausted.    A 


IN   SOLEMN   CONCLAVE.  2 19 

suppressed  murmur  ran  through  the  hall,  met 
by  severe  tokens  of  displeasure  from  the  adhe 
rents  of  Mrs.  Monroe,  who  rallied  about  her  in 
vehement  indignation.  Cries  of  "  Shame!  shame 
to  attack  such  a  good  woman!"  "Turn  her 
into  the  streets  again;  she  is  totally  depraved," 
etc.,  etc.,  rung  through  the  hall. 

The  lady  who  had  brought  Jennie  there  came 
to  her  at  once,  accompanied  by  the  pretty  friend 
of  Mrs.  Bliss.  This  was  Mrs.  Bailey,  who  had 
made  up  her  elaborate  mind  to  take  a  step 
without  consulting  the  minister,  and  as  she  was 
going  to  the  watering  places  for  the  season,  to 
give  Jennie  a  home  in  consideration  of  certain 
duties  in  connection  with  her  summer  wardrobe. 
Jennie  parted  with  her  friend  of  a  few  weeks 
with  genuine  sorrow. 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 


MRS.    GRUNDY   AND   FATE. 

OW  indeed,  Providence  seemed  to  be 
friend  Jennie.  Mrs.  Bailey  proved  to 
be  very  kind  in  her  way,  demanding 
but  light  service  of  her,  and  was  always  pleasant 
and  considerate.  She  knew  just  what  Jennie's 
past  history  had  been,  and  was  inclined  to  lay  all 
the  blame  where  it  justly  belonged  ;  but  on  this 
portion  of  her  life  Jennie  was  mute,  and  Mrs. 
Bailey  had  tact  enough  to  let  it  alone.  She  was 
rather  fond  of  a  foolish,  good-looking  husband, 
who  believed  everything  she  told  him,  no  matter 
how  improbable,  and  she  liked  all  other  gentle 
men  well  enough  to  flirt  vigorously  with  them 
upon  all  possible  occasions.  Whatever  entangle 
ments  she  got  into  she  came  out  of  with  flying 
colors,  helped  by  the  infantile  innocence  of  her 

face  and  the  endorsement  of  the  Church.     She 
(220) 


MRS.    GRUNDY   AND   FATE.  221 

was  very  much  in  love  with  life,  and  the  world, 
which  had  used  her  well. 

"  1  hope  you  are  comfortable,"  she  said,  look 
ing  in  upon  Jennie,  the  first  day  of  her  engage 
ment.  "This  is  the  coolest  room  in  the  house; 
but  I  daresay  you  find  it  warm  sewing.  I  think 
you  may  rip  off  all  the  lace  upon  that  pink  silk; 
I  have  several  yards  of  new  point  to  trim  it 
with,  and  you  will  find  the  buttons  in  my  work- 
basket;  they  were  fifteen  dollars  a  dozen,  and  are 
perfectly  lovely.  "When  you  finish  that,  you 
may  do  the  knife  plaiting  for  that  violet 
organdie.  I  shall  be  out  an  hour  or  more." 

When  she  was  left  alone,  Jennie  threw  down 
her  work  and  began  a  slow  walk  up  and  down 
the  room.  The  work  was  utterly  and  wholly 
distasteful  to  her,  and  a  dreadful  weariness 
seemed  to  have  taken  possession  of  her,  much 
of  which  was  due  to  ill  health.  Would  she 
never  be  well  again,  and  strong  enough  to  work 
with  comfort?  She  walked  to  the  elegant  mirror 
shrouded  in  costly  lace,  and  looked  at  herself. 
Heavens !  how  like  a  penitent  she  looked,  in  her 
coarse  black  dress.  She  held  up  her  hands;  how 
white  and  thin  they  were!  A  ring  she  wore  — 


222  AGAINST    FATE. 

her  mother's  wedding  ring  —  just  a  small,  worn 
circlet  of  gold,  nearly  dropped  off  her  finger. 

This  sort  of  life,  with  its  hardships  and  sneers 
and  snubs,  was  wearing  her  out ;  but  she  had  an 
inner  consciousness  that  she  was  doing  right; 
she  had  tried  to  be  true  to  herself.  She  would 
live  down  that  short  and  fatal  past,  that  had 
branded  her  with  infamy.  She  went  back  to  her 
sewing,  and  worked  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 
She  sewed  till  her  back  ached  and  her  face 
flushed,  and  it  was  very  hard  to  breathe;  and 
still  she  sewed  on. 

"  Why  not?  "  she  thought,  bitterly.  "  Better 
women  do  it  every  day,  and  who  pities  or  cares 
for  them!" 

A  few  days  after  this,  when  Mrs.  Bailey  was 
absent  on  one  of-  her  frequent  shopping  excur 
sions,  her  brother  from  the  North  Side  came  in, 
and,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  went  through 
the  house,  looking  for  his  sister,  seeking  her,  at 
last,  in  the  front  room  up-stairs  where  Jennie 
was  sewing.  He  was  a  bachelor,  the  eldest  of 
the  family,  and  a  man  who  had  seen  the  world 
in  all  its  phases.  He  was  so  sure  of  finding  his 
sister  in  her  favorite  room  that  he  walked  in 


MRS.   GRUNDY   AND   FATE.  223 

without  ceremony,  before  he  saw  that  a  strangei 
occupied  it. 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss,"  he  said,  bowing  carelessly, 
"  but  I  expected  to  find  Mrs.  Bailey  here."  Then 
he  stared  blankly  at  Jennie's  flushed  face,  ejacu 
lated,  "The  devil!  "  and  went  out,  slamming  the 
door  behind  him. 

At  the  front  gate  he  met  his  sister,  coming  in. 
"  Alice,  who  is  that  girl?"  he  asked,  pointing 
up-stairs. 

Mrs.  Bailey  had  just  bought  a  Chantilly  lace 
fichu  at  a  bargain,  consequently  she  was  in 
radiant  good  humor. 

"  Who  is  —  that  —  girl?"  she  repeated  slowly. 
"  Why,  she  is  a  seamstress  furnished  me  by  a 
Society  in  the  city;  she  sews  beautifully.  Isn't 
she  handsome?" 

"  Well,  yes,  rather.  I  should  keep  Tom  out 
of  her  way;  you  know  how  susceptible  he  is." 

"Why,  you  dreadful  boy!  My  Tom!  Why,  I 
do  n't  believe  he  could  tell  whether  she  is  white 
or  copper-colored.  Now  with  you  it  would  be 
entirely  different." 

"  Humph!  yes,  I  think  it  would.  By  the  way, 
"Alice,  when  did  you  see  Eoss  Farnham  last? '' 


224  AGAINST   FATE. 

"When!  why  at  the  last  reception;  I  danced 
with  him.  He  dances  elegantly;  but  then  he  is 
an  elegant  gentleman."  And  she  smiled  inno 
cently  into  her  brother's  face. 

"  Well,  you  need  not  fall  down  and  worship 
him,  if  he  is.  Ross  is  well  enough  as  we  fellows 
go,  but  his  reputation  is  beginning  to  be  a  little 
shaky,  even  with  us,  and  you  know  that  means  a 
great  deal.  Tom  is  such  a  good  fellow  he  never 
knows  any  harm  of  anybody;  but  I  won't  see 
my  sister  imposed  on  by  any  one  with  a  char 
acter  like  Ross  Farnham's." 

"Thanks,  dear;  your  sister  appreciates  your 
good  intentions,  but  you  know  I  meet  many  such 
men  in  society,  and  must  be  agreeable  to  them. 
We  ladies  are  not  supposed  to  know  of  their 
little  peccadilloes." 

"  There  you  are  mistaken,  Alice.  Such  men 
are  not  common ;  society  men  are  not  all  unprin 
cipled  roues,  and  even  among  them  Ross  Farn- 
ham  is  despised." 

"  Yet  I  hear  he  is  going  to  marry  that  pretty 
and  accomplished  Miss  Badger,  an  only  daughter 
and  an  heiress." 

"  Certainly  ;   you  ladies    always  exalt  such  a 


MRS.   GRUNDY   AND   FATE.  22$ 

man  into  a  hero.     To  be  a  libertine  or  a  brigand 

o 

is  sure  to  make  a  man  successful  in  laying  siege 
to  your  hearts." 

"  Nonsense,  Frank  ;  you  are  jealous.  You 
know  you  were  in  love  with  Ida  Badger  yourself 
—  all  the  gentlemen  are,"  retorted  his  sister. 

"Perhaps.  Well,  she  had  the  bad  taste  to 
select  Ross,  and  I  surrender  gracefully.  Good 
bye,  Alice,  I  'm  off."  And  he  walked  away, 
humming  a  lively  air. 

At  the  first  corner  he  stopped  and  looked  back. 
k'  It  is  n't  just  the  thing  for  Alice  to  have  that 
girl  in  the  house;  I  wonder  if  she  knows  any 
thing,  about  her.  How  cut  up  the  poor  thing 
looks!  I  wonder  if  Farnham  does  anything  for 
her;  it  is  rough,  I  must  say.  I  will  think  about 
it  before  I  speak  to  Alice." 

"  I  wonder  how  long  it  will  be  before  she  will 
come  up  and  say  I  am  not  wanted,"  thought 
Jennie,  who  knew  how  vacillating  Mrs.  Bailey 
could  be  at  times. 

It  seemed  now  as  if  there  might  be  a  respite 

for  the  poor  girl  from  the  fate  that  faced  her; 

but  the  second  week  of  her  engagement  brought 

a  social  morning  call  from  a  wealthy  member  of 

15 


226  AGAINST     FATE. 

the  Church,  who  was  a  dragon  of  virtue  herself, 
and  tolerated  no  lapses  of  it  in  others.  She  had 
been  present  at  the  meeting  of  the  Society  when 
Jennie  made  her  brief  speech,  and  she  had  taken 
sides  with  Mrs.  Monroe,  and  heard  that  lady's 
version  of  Jennie's  baseness  and  ingratitude. 
Mrs.  Bailey,  who  had  no  idea  of  this  being  a 
special  visit,  called  to  the  girl  to- show  Mrs. 
Holton  up-stairs,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
visitor  entered  the  sewing-room,  very  hot  and 
flushed,  and  exceedingly  pompous. 

Mrs.  Bailey  hastened  to  bring  forward  the 
coolest  and  most  comfortable  chair  in  the  room, 
and  her  caller  was  just  about  to  settle  herself  in 
it,  when  her  cold,  gray  eyes  lighted  on  Jennie, 
sewing  meekly,  without  even  raising  her  head. 
There  was  instantly  a  storm  of  indignant  protes 
tation,  as  Mrs.  Holton  appealed  to  Mrs.  Bailey 
to  know  if  this  was  an  intentional  insult. 

"That  girl!"  shrieked  Mrs.   Holton,  looking 
in  imminent  danger  of   apoplexy.      "  Do  you 
know  who  she  is,  and  then  bring  me  —  me  — 
into  the  very  same  room  with  her!  " 

"Dear  Mrs.  Holton !" gasped  Mrs.  Bailey;  for 
this  was  a  Church  pillar,  worth  half  a  million. 


MRS.   GRUNDY  AND   FATE. 

"Forgive  me;  but  indeed  I  never  thought  of 
her.  You  know  I  employed  her  purely  from 
charity;  she  had  no  home,  and  is  such  a  lovely 
hand  to  make  over  —  and  —  and,  do  you  really 
think  that  she  is  wicked  now?" 

"Wicked!     Steeped  in  wickedness." 

Poor  Jennie  had  escaped  from  the  room  by 
this  time,  and  Mrs.  Holton  had  fallen  back 
in  the  rocking-chair,  and  was  fanning  herself 
violently. 

"  Of  course,  you  can  have  no  conception  of 
what  she  is ;  but  you  wrong  yourself  and  society 
by  keeping  such  a  creature  under  your  roof. 
And  last  Sunday  you  took  her  to  church,  and 
actually  allowed  her  to  sit  in  your  pew;  and  my 
son — my  son,  Mrs.  Bailey  —  saw  her,  and  no 
doubt  thought  she  was  a  relative  of  yours.  He 
said  she  had  an  interesting  face,  and  he  felt  sure 
she  had  a  history.  A  history,  indeed!  I  should 
think  she  had." 

Here  the  woman  stopped  for  want  of  breath, 
and  Mrs.  Bailey,  who  was  really  kind-hearted, 
ventured  another  appeal  for  Jennie. 

"  She  was  so  young,  Mrs.  Holton,  and  she  had 
no  friends  here,  and  her  punishment  has  been  so 


228  AGAINST   FATE. 

dreadful.  Can  we  not  do  something  for  her, 
amongst  us  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  responded  the  matron,  with 
great  dignity  ;  "  there  is  the  Refuge  and  the 
Good  Shepherd,  institutions  for  just  such  cases. 
I  myself  will  recommend  her  as  a  suitable 
applicant." 

If  Mrs.  Bailey  had  been  a  woman  of  spirit 
she  would,  at  this  moment,  have  turned  the  Hon. 
Mrs.  Hoi  ton  out  of  her  house,  and  remanded 
Jennie  back  to  her  work;  but  she  was  bound, 
hand  and  foot,  by  the  golden  chains  of  conserva 
tism,  and  she  was  loyal  to  her  tyrant.  So  she 
meekly  said: 

"  She  would  not  live  a  week  in  either  place; 
but  she  might  get  work  where  they  did  not 
know  about  her  past  life." 

"  Well,  I  have  done  my  duty  as  Directress  of 
our  Society.  If  you  continue  to  harbor  this  girl 
under  your  roof  we  shall  feel  it  to  be  our  duty 
as  mothers  and  consistent  church  members,  to 
keep  our  young  people  from  all  contact  with  her, 
and  you  will  find,  dear  Mrs.  Bailey,  your  own 
position  a  very  unpleasant  one." 

"  I    am  going    away  in    a  week,"   said  Mrs. 


MRS.   GRUNDY  AND   FATE.  22Q 

Bailey,  who  anticipated  her  departure,  in  hopes 
of  conciliating  her  mentor,  "  and  shall  have  no 
further  need  of  her  services.  She  has  behaved 
well  since  she  has  been  here,  and  done  her  work 
faithfully;  but  perhaps  it  is  better  as  you  say  — 
the  influence  may  be  wrong.  I  shall,  of  course, 
act  upon  your  advice,  and  am  greatly  obliged." 

She  closed  the  front  door,  as  her  visitor  sailed 
majestically  down  the  steps,  and  went  back  to 
find  Jennie.  She  discovered  her  in  the  small 
bedroom  allotted  to  her  use,  thrown  face  down 
ward  upon  the  bed,  crying  bitterly. 

"Isn't  it  a  shame!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bailey. 
"  Of  course  you  heard  every  word  she  said;  that 
horrid  woman!  But  we  all  have  to  do  just  as 
she  says.  Now,  what  will  you  do?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Jennie,  sitting  up  and  wiping  the 
tears  from  her  drenched  face,  "  I  must  look  for 
another  situation,  of  course;  I  do  not  expect  to 
stay  here.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me.  It 
is  very  hard,  living  in  this  way  with  no  friends 
of  my  own,  and  I  am  so,  so  wretched."  And 
Jennie  began  to  sob  again. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  began  Mrs.  Bailey,  as  a 
sudden  thought  took  possession  of  her;  "go  and 


230 


AGAINST   FATE. 


see  our  minister.  He  is  a  beautiful  man ;  such 
white  hands,  and  so  consoling!  If  any  one. can 
help  you  he  can,  and  he  is  very  benevolent.  I 
will  see  him  to-night,  at  prayer  meeting,  and  say 
that  you  will  be  there  to-morrow  evening;  he 
will  be  at  his  study  in  the  church  then.  I  am 
so  glad  I  thought  of  him.  E~ow,  will  you  go? " 
"Yes,"  said  Jennie,  whose  soul  still  found 
comfort  in  the  echoes  of  that  other  minister's 
words  of  comfort,  "  I  will  go." 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

THE   GOSPEL   OF   GUSH. 

T  was  a  beautiful  church,  and  the  min 
ister  was  a  beautiful  man!  Handsome 
to  look  at  and  good  to  listen  to;  his 
voice  was  soft  and  persuasive,  and  had  an  under 
tone  of  gospel  s\veetness.  He  stood  in  the  door 
of  his  fold,  and  called  his  sheep  gently  and  they 
£ame  gladly  at  their  shepherd's  call.  It  was  so 
easy  to  follow  him  and  obey  his  commands.  He 
was  not  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,  either,  but  a 
kind,  considerate  pastor,  who  had  prayed  and 
pleaded  with  his  people,  always  in  that  same 
gentle  voice,  and  with  that  sweet,  persuasive 
manner,  until  he  had  lost  his  strength,  amassed 
a  fortune,  and  shifted  half  the  burden  of 
securing  the  salvation  of  souls  on  other  should 
ers.  The  ladies  of  his  congregation  adored  him. 
They  heaped  upon  him  embroidered  slippers 


232  AGAINST   FATE. 

and  quilted  silk  dressing  gowns,  and  poured  out 
all  the  secret  sorrows  of  their  hearts  into  the 
confessional  of  his  gentle  ears.  When  he  made 
his  ministerial  calls,  Mrs.  A.  told  him  how  she 
hated  Mrs.  B.,  and  he  cast  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters.  When  his  health  failed  he  met  his 
people  in  his  study  at  the  church. 

Here  Jennie  sought  him.  Her  courage  nearly 
failed  her  when  she  stood  in  the  door-way,  but 
she  felt  that  if  ever  a  poor,  sinful  mortal  needed 
help  she  was  that  one;  so  she  tapped  lightly  on 
the  study  door,  and  waited  with  a  fearful  heart. 
She  was  thankful  that  he  knew  she  was  coming, 
and  would  have  thought  over  her  needs  before 
hand,  and  be  ready  to  throw  some  light  on  her 
•dark,  shadowed  path. 

In  response  to  her  timid  knock  he  opened  the 
door,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  alone.  He 
extended  his  hand  —  such  a  beautiful  hand,  soft, 
white,  and  supple  —  and  smiled  kindly,  all  the 
"while  looking  over  her  shoulder  in  a  nervous, 
frightened  manner,  into  the  church  corridor 
beyond,  feebly  lighted  by  a  dim  lamp.  As  soon 
as  she  entered  he  locked  the  door,  and  in  answer 
to  Jennie's  look  of  surprise,  said: 


THE   GOSPEL  OF  GUSH.  233 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  interrupted.  There  is  a 
choir  meeting  in  the  church  to-night,  and  if  any 
of  the  members  saw  you  come  in  there  would  be 
a  dozen  excuses  made  to  get  in  here.  Now,  if 
you  please,  I  am  ready  to  hear  your  story." 

"My  story!"  echoed  Jennie,  surprised  and 
hurt;  "  I  thought  you  knew  it;  that  Mrs.  Bailey 
had  told  you." 

He  smiled  pleasantly.  "Mrs.  Bailey  is  so 
^romantic,  and  so  much  the  creature  of  feeling, 
that  I  always  find  it  impossible  to  discriminate 
between  the  real  and  the  imaginary  in  her 
stories.  If  you  will  give  me  an  outline  of  your 
life  I  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you." 

She  told  him  all,  trying  to  forget  that  it  was 
anything  else  but  soul  talking  to  soul;  yet  she 
lacked  the  inspiration  which  his  presence  should 
have  given  her.  This  emissary  of  our  Blessed 
Master  had  neither  sinned  nor  suffered;  his  face 
wras  smooth  and  seamless;  no  indentures  from 
the  crown  of  thorns  had  given  character  to  his 
brow;  no  stormy  surges  of  feeling  had  paled  his 
cheek.  How  could  he  appreciate  this  girl's 
temptation  and  sorrow !  How  could  he  sympa 
thize  with  the  anguish  that  oppressed  her! 


234  AGAINST   FATE. 

He  heard  her  through  kindly,  listening  with 
passive  emotion  to  the  whole  sad  story  of  her 
temptation  and  fall,  the  death  of  her  father  and 
mother,  her  own  repentance,  and  the  world's 
scorn.  He  was  accustomed  to  gushing  confi 
dences  of  sin  and  folly,  while  a  jeweled  white 
hand  would  be  laid  softly  upon  his  shoulder  to 
emphasize  the  story,  and  a  sparkling  shower  of 
repentant  tears  would  follow,  and  the  next  day 
a  check  for  the  dear  pastor  to  use  toward  some 
favorite  project.  But  this  poorly-clad,  sorrowing 
girl  was  of  another  sort.  She  had  a  fineness  of 
organization  that  would  offer  a  life  of  atonement 
for  a  year  of  sin.  How  should  he  deal  with  one 
who  was  so  different  from  the  lambs  of  his 
own  flock! 

A  ray  of  light  reached  the  perplexed  pastor. 
It  came  from  the  key-hole  of  the  study  door. 
He  rose  nervously  and  hung  his  handkerchief 
over  the  knob.  As  he  did  so  there  was  a  sudden 
rustling  without. 

"  There  was  a  member  of  the  choir  on  her 
knees  there,"  he  said,  looking  very  nervous  and 
uncomfortable.  "  Do  you  think  any  one  saw 
you  come  in? " 


THE   GOSPEL  OF  GUSH.  235 

"And  if  any  one  did,"  answered  Jennie,  with 
a  shade  of  contempt  in  her  voice,  "what  of  it? 
Surely  my  presence  in  your  study  cannot  hurt 
you,  sir! " 

"No-o,"  was  the  cautious  reply;  "but  if  my 
wife  came  in  she  might  be  angry,  and  those 
other  women;  oh  dear!  you  cannot  understand; 
but  they  are  ready  to  tear  me  in  pieces  between 
them,  and  'if  they  saw  you  here,  I  should 
probably  be  blamed  for  not  calling  a  church 
council  in  the  matter.  No,  I  really  cannot  help 
you  without  making  matters  worse.  I  have  so 
many  similar  cases  presented  to  my  notice  that, 
were  I  to  give  attention  to  them  all,  I  should 
have  no  time  left  to  do  my  Blessed  Master's 
work.  Try  and  live  a  better  life;  remember 
that  Christ  died  for  sinners,  such  as  you,  and  — 
and  —  are  you  going?  Do  not  let  any  one  see 
you  if  you  can  help  it." 

Such  were  the  husks  he  offered  to  her  starving 
soul. 

The  good  pastor  did  not  feel  quite  satisfied 
with  himself,  however,  and  the  next  day  he 
called  on  Boss  Farnham,  at  his  elegant  hotel,  to 
remonstrate  with  him  upon  his  sin,  and  to  ask 


236  AGAINST   FATE. 

him  to  do  something  for  Jennie.  When 
informed  that  she  would  neither  see  Ross  nor 
receive  aid  from  him,  the  minister  felt  that  he 
was  released  from  further  interest  in  the  matter, 
and  sat  down  to  a  luxurious  dinner,  as  Mr. 
Farnham's  guest,  with  a  clear  conscience  and  a 
good  digestion. 

On  the  event  of  the  pastor's  birth-day,  a  few 
weeks  later,  a  superb  silver-mounted  dressing- 
case  was  sent  in,  with  '.Ross  Farnham's  compli 
ments! 

Verily,  the  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire! 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


VISIT]  E     PROTECTED. 

IN  is  sweet !  Whatever  bitterness  it 
may  leave  at  the  last,  its  first  taste 
is  sugared  to  the  palate.  It  is  not  till 
the  draught  reaches  the  soul,  and  strikes  it& 
deadly  blight  there,  that  the  victim  feels  it  is  a 
tearful  poison.  All  the  ways  to  sin  are  made 
alluring  —  bright  with  pleasure,  blooming  with 
light,  and  full  of  gay  company.  The  narrow 
path  is  hard  to  walk  in :  It  is  full  of  self-denial ; 
the  brambles  cut  and  tear  the  fainting  flesh ;  the 
jeers  of  those  who  are  going  the  other  way 
make  a  constant  din;  but  at  the  end  are  the 
Eternal  Heights,  and  to  him  that  overcometh  it 
shall  be  given  to  be  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of 
God.  I  have  always  thought  that  passage 
should  read  to  her  that  overcometh,  since  it 
is  woman  alone  who  must  walk  in  the  pre 
scribed  path. 

(237j 


238  AGAINST   FATE. 

Upon  this  narrow  path  Jennie  had  entered, 
weary,  hungry,  sorrowful,  and  alone. 

Where  was  Reuben  all  this  time?  Back  again 
at  the  hospital,  wearing  out,  in  the  struggle 
for  breath.  He  lost  all  trace  of  Jennie  when 
she  left  Mrs.  Lanni^an's.  At  last  he  wrote  to 

CD 

Eva  Bartlett,  asking  her  to  help  him  find  her, 
and  Eva  gladly  went  to  work  to  make  a  home 
for  Jennie,  and  wrote  her  views  of  the  matter  to 
Reuben.  It  was  then  decided,  that  upon  his 
death,  which  was  certain  at  no  very  distant  time, 
and  might  occur  at  any  moment,  that  Jennie 
should  live  with  Mrs.  Harlow,  on  the  old  place, 
and  take  charge  of  hi-s  mother  during  her  life 
time,  if  she  would.  In  any  case,  half  of  his 
estate  was  willed  to  her,  that  she  might  not 
want.  Yet  all  this  time  the  poor  girl  had  not 
where  to  lay  her  head. 

At  last  another  chance  among  the  great  whirl 
pool  of  bread-seekers  drifted  within  her  reach. 
She  answered  an  advertisement  for  a  seamstress, 
and  was  taken  upon  trust  with  scarcely  a  question 
asked  her.  This  was  not  from  any  Christ-like 
goodness  of  heart  in  the  people  who  employed 
her.  To  them,  a  seamstress  was  a  mere  machine 


VIRTUE   PROTECTED.  239 

who  came  from  somewhere  in  the  back  regions 
of  the  city  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
sewed  all  day,  and  disappeared  into  the  same 
remote  and  shadowy  distance  after  six  at  night. 
Good,  bad,  or  indifferent  in  morals,  it  made  no 
difference  to  them.  If  any  of  them  had  thought 
about  it  at  all,  they  would  have  decided  that  she 
would  naturally  be  bad.  Somehow  that  seemed 
to  be  most  likely,  yet  if  the  fingers  were  deft, 
and  did  their  work  well,  all  right.  The  soul 
might  be  as  black  as  ink,  so  long  as  none  of  the 
color  rubbed  off  on  the  work. 

Jennie's  new  employer  was  Mrs.  Colonel 
Badger,  a  lady  of  unquestioned  position  in 
society.  Her  only  daughter  was  about  to 
marry  a  gentleman  of  great  wealth,  consider 
ably  older  than  herself. 

"I  don't  love  him  one  bit,."  said  the  gay 
creature,  chatting  to  a  young  friend  in  the  sew 
ing  room,  while  she  waited  for  measures  to  be 
taken  and  patterns  adjusted. 

"Then  why  do  you  marry  him,  Ida?"  asked 
her  less  wordly  friend. 

"  Because  he  is  so  splendid  and  stylish,  and  all 
the  drls  want  him.  And  think  of  the  diamonds 


240  AGAINST   FATE. 

I  shall  have.  And  we  are  going  to  Europe  on  a 
bridal  tour,  and  will  stay  there  until  we  are  tired 
of  it.  And  he  is  so  fond  of  me!" 

"Reasons  enough!  Why  has  he  never  mar 
ried  before?  He  is  quite  an  old  bachelor,"  said 
her  friend. 

"  He  never  loved  before,"  was  the  triumphant 
answer.  "  He  has  confessed  all  his  sins  to  me. 
and  is  going  to  join  the  church  —  our  church, 
you  know — and  live  a  new  life.  He's  been  a 
pretty  gay  boy,  I  can  tell  you,  but  I  will  take 
care  of  him  now." 

Amid  such  chatter  as  this,  Jennie  sat  and 
sewed,  listened,  and  wondered  if  Heaven  would 
bless  such  an  ill-assorted  union  as  this.  Appar- 
antly,  it  did. 

She  earned  her  bread  here.  The  bride-elect 
was  haughty  and  shrewish,  and  berated  her 
mother,  the  servants,  and  the  seamstress.  At 
night,  when  Jennie  went  down  the  stairs,  she 
would  feel  numb  with  repressed  misery,  and  the 
long  lonely  walk  to  Mrs.  Lannigan's  —  for  she 
was  again  a  lodger  under  that  humble  roof- 
was  beset  with  peril.  The  temptations — some 
times  horrible  and  grotesque,  sometimes  sugared 


VIRTUE   PROTECTED.  241 

and  engaging  —  which  come  to  young  and  beau 
tiful  women  who  go  along  the  streets  unpro 
tected,  followed  her  to  the  threshold  of  her  poor 
home.  Once  a  spectral  figure  glided  up  to  peer 
into  her  face. 

Jennie  remembered  her.  It  was  the  woman 
who  had  watched  her  upon  the  night  of  her 
arrival  in  the  city.  The  tawdry,  painted  crea 
ture  who  had  flitted  athwart  her  vision  like  a 
warning,  was  dressed  then  in  gorgeous  silk,  and 
now  she  was  in  rags,  her  beauty  and  grace  gone 
with  her  diamonds  to  keep  her  from  starving. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  chuckled.  "  He  tired  of 
you,  just  as  he  did  of  me—  of  them  all.  Oh,, 
it's  a  bonny  sight  —  ha!  ha!  Look  here!  "  She 
held  up  two  skeleton  arms,  and  then,  with  a  wild 
scream,  flitted  away  into  the  darkness. 

One  evening  there  came  over  her  such  a  dread 
ful  loneliness,  such  a  longing  for  human  help 
and  sympathy,  that  she  ventured  to  go  and  call 
on  Lucia  Winne,  to  learn  something  of  Eeuben,. 
of  Eva,  and  the  rest.  She  bent  her  steps  toward 
Lucia's  boarding  place,  and  in  a  short  time  was 
following  a  servant  to  her  'room.  It  was  a 
pretty  place,  filled  with  light  and  bloom,  and 
16 


242  AGAINST    FATE. 

Lucia  was  seated  cosily  at  a  table  writing.  She 
turned  as  the  girl  announced  a  caller. 

"Jennie!"  she  exclaimed;  the  name  passed 
her  lips  before  she  could  stop  it,  and  she  imme 
diately  added,  "  How  dared  you  come  here  ? 
"What  would  my  brother  say?" 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Lucia,  to  let  you  know 
I  am  living  right  now,  and  have  been  for  a  long 
time.  Can  you  never  forget  nor  forgive?" 
asked  the  poor  girl,  wildly. 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that  before," 
answered  Lucia,  in  an  icy  tone.  "  You  had  the 
same  chance  Eva  and  I  had,  Jennie,  but  you 
willfully  chose  to  do  wrong,  and  you  ought  to 
suffer.  I  can  never  associate  with  you  again.  I 
cannot  help  you  up  without  pulling  myself 
down." 

"If  you  had  suffered  what  I  have,"  returned 
Jennie — "cold,  hunger,  shame,  and  scorn — you 
might  think  I  was  sufficiently  punished,  Lucia, 
for  the  disgrace  I  brought  upon  those  who  loved 
and  trusted  me.  But,  Lucia,  my  mother  forgave 
me  with  her  last  breath.  I  have  never  injured 
you.  Surely,  you  can  forget  my  past." 

"  I  cannot,  Jennie,  so  do  not  ask  it.     If  you 


VIRTUE   PROTECTED.  243 

are  indeed  penitent,  I  am  glad,  but  your  life 
must  prove  it.  Oh,  Jennie!  have  you  thought 
what  it  is  to  die?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Jennie,  wearily.  "  It  takes 
all  my  time  to  try  to  live,  and  live  right.  When 
such  great  good  luck  as  dying  comes  to  me,  my 
troubles  and  necessities  will  be  over." 

"  Repent  while  there  is  yet  time,"  said  Lucia. 
"  I  know  some  good  people  who  will  remember 
you  in  their  prayers." 

Jennie  smiled  drearily.  "  It  might  hurt  the 
purity  of  their  souls  to  pray  for  me,"  she 
replied.  "Good  bye,  Lucia.  There  is  a  great 
gulf  between  us.  Be  thankful  you  have  not 
crossed  it."  She  held  out  her  hand,  but  Lucia 
did  not  see  it,  and  so  they  parted,  in  this  life, 
forever! 

She  had  several  panics  of  fright  while  sewing 
at  the  Badger's.  It  was  part  of  her  punishment 
that  her  beauty  and  Ross  Farnham's  wealth  and 
position  should  have  made  her  conspicuously 
known,  and  she  dreaded  the  entrance  of  any 
friend  who  might  by  chance  recognize  her. 
One  day  a  vivacious  young  lady  called,  who 
was  a  great  friend  of  the  bride-elect,  and  was 


244  AGAINST   FATE. 

at  once  taken  into  the  room  where  Jennie  and 
the  others  were  sewing,  to  inspect  the  bridal 
finery.  It  happened  that  she  was  a  distant  rela 
tive  of  Mr.  Monroe,  and  a  cordial  hater  of  Mrs. 
Monroe,  as  she  was  of  all  shams.  She  was  a 
shrewd,  sensible  Scotch  girl,  who  had  made  a 
nattering  success  with  her  pen,  and  was  quite 
the  fashion  in  society.  Agnes  McDonald  knew 
the  pale  seamstress  the  moment  she  saw  her,  but 
by  no  word  nor  look  did  she  betray  the  knowl 
edge.  At  a  moment  when  they  were  left  alone 
together,  for  Agnes  stayed  to  lunch,  Jennie 
threw  down  the  work  she  was  vainly  trying  to 
finish,  and,  clasping  her  hands  in  passionate 
entreaty,  looked  into  the  honest  kindly  face. 

"  Oh,  Mis's  McDonald,  please  do  not  say  that 
you  ever  saw  me  before,  nor  betray  anything 
about  my  past  life.  These  people  do  not  know 
or  care  anything  about  me,  but  if  they  did  know, 
1  might  be  without  a  situation  again;  and  I 
must  have  bread!" 

"  Dinna  ye  fash  yoursel,"  said  Agnes  McDon 
ald,  coolly.  "  If  they  never  find  out  till  they 
learn  it  frae  me,  they  '11  bide  a  weary  while. 
And  it 's  little  they  're  likely  to  ken  at  the  last. 


VIRTUE   PROTECTED.  245 

And  as  for  your  sin  — we're  all  truly  sinners, 
more  or  less.  Just  ye  put  it  behind  ye  till  ye  're 
asked  for  it  at  the  Last  Day!  Dinna  ye  fash 
about  it  any  mair." 

Homely  words,  but  so  comforting.  Jennie 
smiled  into  the  honest,  kindly  face  with  her  eyes 
full  of  tears,  and  stitched  on  the  rest  of  that  day 
with  a  lighter  heart,  for  the  few  kind  words  that 
had  been  given  her. 

Jennie's  dark  spectre  of  fate  was  again  near- 
ing  her.  It  was  strange  that  not  once  during 
the  wreeks  she  worked  there  was  the  name  of  Ida 
Badger's  affianced  husband  spoken  in  her  pres 
ence.  It  was  the  merest  chance,  as  his  visits 
were  almost  daily,  but  the  rooms  used  for  sewing 
were  in  a  remote  part  of  the  large  house,  and 
the  conversation  carried  on  there  was  chiefly  of 
the  wardrobe.  If  she  had  pictured  him  at  all 
in  her  mind,  it  was  as  an  elderly  man  of  rather 
imposing  appearance.  The  pet  abbreviation  by 
which  his  lady-love  mentioned  him  meant  little 
or  nothing  to  her. 

One  evening  as  Jennie  came  down  the  stairs 
into  the  spacious  hall,  on  her  way  to  the  side 
door,  by  which  she  always  came  and  went,  she 


246  AGAINST   FATE. 

found  the  upper  housemaid  hurriedly  lighting 
the  hall  lamp.  The  gas  was  turned  off,  or  was 
obstinate,  and  she  was  perplexed  with  it,  while  a 
vigorous  ring  at  the  front  -door  was  still  unan 
swered.  "  Would  ye  mind  opening  the  door, 
Miss?"  she  asked,  regulating  the  flame  in  the 
frosted  glass  globe.  "  It 's  Miss  Ida's  gentle 
man,  and  he  don't  like  to  be  kept  waiting." 

Jennie  opened  the  door,  and  stepped  back  to 
admit  the  gentleman.  As  he  entered,  the  soft 
light  fell  upon  his  face,  and  she  gave  a  stifled 
cry.  It  was  Ross  Farnham! 

Pie  caught  her  arm  fiercety,  as  he  saw  who  it 
was,  and  with  white,  set  lips  looked  sternly  into 
her  death-stricken  face. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  this  house?"  he 
asked,  deepening  the  intensity  of  his  strong  grip 
upon  her  arm,  until  it  seemed  as  if  the  frail 
bone  must  be  crushed  in  his  hand.  "  How  dare 
you  come  here?"  he  said,  drawing  her  into  the 
vestibule  beyond  the  curious  eyes  of  the  servant. 
"  Did  you  attempt  to  palm  off  any  wretched 
story  upon  her?" 

Jennie  looked  into  his  handsome  face.  Oh, 
how  handsome  it  was,  even  when  distorted  by 


VIRTUE   PROTECTED.  247 

anger  and  scorn;  but  she  met,  without  flinching, 
the  fierce  gaze  of  his  angry  eyes,  saying,  in  a 
calm,  passionless  voice,  "  T  am  in  this  house  as 
a  servant  —  a  seamstress  —  a  dependent.  God 
knows  I  would  not  haVe  come  here  if  I  had 
known  I  should  meet  you." 

"  Then  stay  away.  Do  you  hear?  Never  come 
here  again.  You  cannot  live  under  the  same 
roof  with  her,  my  pure,  beautiful  darHng. 
Here  is  money  —  more  than  you  can  earn 
here.  I  would  have  given  it  to  you  before, 
if  you  had  let  me  know  where  to  find  you. 
I  will  help  you  again  if  you  need  it,  but 
never  come  into  this  house  again!" 

He  tried  to  press  the  roll  of  bills  into  her 
hands,  but  as  she  drew  back,  released  from  his 
hold,  she  folded  the  scant  black  shawl  she  wore 
close  about  her,  and  passed  away  into  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

NOTHING    BUT  LEAVES ! 

"  Dost  know  the  olden  story  ? 

It  sounds  so  sweet,  it  sounds  so  sad,    • 
Alas !  they,  both  of  them,  must  perish, 
For  the  too-much  love  they  had." 

^  old,  old,  tumble-down  house,  the 
windows  of  which  had  long  been 
nailed  up,  —  set  round  with  lilacs, 
that  were  in  full  bloom,  filling  the  night  air 
with  their  fragrance.  The  tender  hush  of  a  star 
lit  sky,  pure  and  peaceful  as  the  smile  of  God, 
bent  over  it,  and  within,  a  soul  was  going  up 
from  its  thraldom. 

She  lay  upon  her  own  little  bed,  prepared  for 
lier    by   Eva's   loving  hands,   as    soon    as    she 
received  poor  Reuben's  frantic  letter,  saying  that 
he  had  found  her,  and  was  bringing  her  home! 
So  preternaturally  long  she  had  lain  there  — 

wasted  and  shadowy,  with  that  awful  immobility 

(248) 


NOTHING   BUT   LEAVES.  249 

of  feature — battling  with  her  last  enemy,  all 
her  beauty  gone,  and  a  gaunt,  hollow  despair  in 
her  great  eyes,  Eoss  Farnham  should  have  seen 
his  work  then. 

To  what  pit  she  had  sunk;  from  what  depths 
he  had  rescued  her;  what  her  strange  or  shame 
ful  experiences  had  been,  if  indeed  he  knew, 
iic-rben  never  told.  He  had  brought  her  to  the 
old  farm-house,  because  she  babbled  of  it  inces 
santly.  Even  now,  she  was  murmuring  snatches 
of  song,  interspersed  with  shrill  bursts  of  laugh 
ter,  and  words  of  impassioned  prayer. 

"  She  has  been  this  way  ever  since  I  found 
her,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  husky  voice,  wiping  the 
great  drops  of  perspiration  from  his  wasted  face. 
"  She  imagines  she  is  home  with  the  old  folks 
again,  picking  flowers  in  the  field,  or  that  she 's 
going  through  some  awful  scenes  in  the  city, 
yonder;  or — or  she's  talking  to  him.  Curse 
him!  I  sometimes  doubt  that  there  is  a  God, 
when  I  see  such  men  as  he  live  and*  prosper." 

"Don't  Reuben!  It  will  all  be  right  and 
clear  as  noonday  to  us,  by  and  by.  Poor  Jennie! 
It  is  nearly  over.  She  cannot  last  through  the 
night.  And  we  had  planned  so  much  for  her!  " 


250  AGAINST    FATE. 

"This  is  best,"  said  Reuben,  hoarsely.  "1 
can  die  contented  when  I  know  she  is  safe." 

He  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  coughing,  and 
Eva  approached  the  sick  girl  on  tip-toe.  But 
there  was  no  need  of  caution;  she  was  too  far 
gone  for  earthly  sounds  to  disturb  her. 

"Jennie,"  she  said,  stooping  gently  over  the 
dying  girl,  "  do  you  know  me? " 

There  was  no  answer.  Jenny  was  surrounded 
by  the  shadowy  phantoms  evoked  from  a  past 
that  was  fast  leaving  her  forever. 

"He  said  I  would  find  her  in  the  morning." 
She  repeated  it  over  and  over.  "  He  said  no 
soul  was  ever  lost! " 

Reuben  stooped  over  her,  and  looked  into  the 
dull  face.  She  seemed  to  know  him;  her  eyes 
moved  ever  so  little,  and  she  whispered  a  single 
word  —  "  forgive." 

For  all  answer,  he  clasped  the  cold  hands  in 
his,  and  pressed  his  trembling  lips  upon  them. 

The  night  wore  on.  Tier  breath  was  so  cold, 
so  cold.  She  murmured  from  time  to  time, 
"He  said  I  would  meet  her  in  the  morning  !" 

She  was  thinking  of  the  minister,  who  had 
prayed  over  her  mother. 


NOTHING  BUT  LEAVES. 


251 


About  midnight  she  spoke  again.  "  I  am 
going  to  the  city.  Good  bye,  mother.  How 
dim  the  lights  in  the  street  have  grown.  How 
cold  it  is.  Say  it  again,  Ross,  that  you  love  me. 
Oh,  how  tired  I  am.  Is  it  morning  yet?" 

Yes;  it  was  morning! 


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